Chronicles of the Green Wizard
by Ultimate Warrior
Summary: A Harry Potter/Middle Earth crossover that is a little different from the usual type. The title and summary are works in process and not yet set in stone, the rating is currently undecided.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own the works of Tolkien or the works of J.K. Rowling. I am merely borrowing them for this story.

Summary: A Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings crossover that's a bit different to the norm.

FOREWORD: This is a tester chapter to see if there in any interest from you the readers in this story. I have plans to continue it regardless but I intend to write a few more chapters in advance so I have a better chance of finish it. As such this won't be updated for a while yet but rest assured I do intend on finishing this.

The concept of this story came to me a couple of years back. I was struggling with my first Harry Potter/Tolkien crossover and came to the conclusion that if I continued with it I would only be following the same road that the Lord of the Rings story follows and would create nothing new. So I spent a while agonizing about how to do a new story in the same genre and in doing so I went back and I looked through my Tolkien Library and I found reference to several stories that Tolkien created but never explored. This sparked my interest and after thinking on it I believed I could get more freedom if I explored one of these stories with the added element of Harry Potter. In doing this I could create an almost entirely new story but keep it cannon with Tolkien's works, though a bit AU obviously. If it turns out well I may attempt to do another.

As an additional note, I know I'm not the best of writers and I have never had any confidence in my ability to write character interaction so I hope that the concept itself is enough to make up for my substandard writing ability.

~Chapter One~

Thunder roared and rolled down from the shear wall of the high mountains as rain pelted their rocky faces and streamed down into pools between their craggy peaks and outcrops. Lightning flashed across the sky in great forks illuminating the countryside beneath the great storm.

There was a strange wind in the air, a feeling altogether foreign to the region and one which had not been felt in those parts since the shaping of the world before the sun rose for the first time from the horizon.

Still the thunder roars and the rain falls as cliffs echoed the din and responded in kind.

No one would willingly walk abroad in this weather. No business could be so urgent as to drag you away from a hot fire, a comfortable seat and a warm drink. Yet something _was_ in the air, something _was_ on the move and something extraordinary was happening.

With a crash a steak of lightning struck the mountain side and broke the cliff face in its fury. The rubble fell, tumbling into the darkness towards the ground far below. With another great crash the lightning struck again, this time striking a clump of trees that stood nearby and reducing it to ash. Once more the lightning struck, this time striking a stream running from the mountains and steam rose up in its wake.

Then all was silent save the falling rain and the gushing wind which swirled and joined into a tempest in the valley. Up and up in rose and great in strength and fury until the very earth beneath it was torn up in its rage.

With a mighty roar of thunder and a blinding flash of lightning the skies above duelled with the tempest below until at last they met and where the met was nothing but ruin and destruction.

But as the smoke and fire cleared, and as the tempest and thunder storm abated that strange wind grew and swirled over a certain spot in the valley. Had there been more to witness this scene than the indomitable mountain walls they would have seen a swirl of wind and debris spinning together into a ball several feet above the ground until it swallowed itself and, with a gulp, exploded and from its ruin it expelled a body onto the desolate land.

. . . . . . . . .

Darkness was all that greeted the eyes of the young man as he woke from his slumber, a darkness that far exceeded the meaning of the word. It was as if he alone existed and all other things had ceased to exist. It was a darkness that blinded and blunted the senses until they were overwhelmed and could recognize nothing.

For an eternity he seemed to drift, alone in this darkness, unaware of the passage of time, unaware of all movement, unaware of the eyes that watched him as he drifted. For far above and beyond his comprehension his fate was being decided by creatures older than the world itself.

This young man had suffered greatly in his lifetime, sacrificed himself and all that he held dear in the pursuit of his final goal, been responsible for many lives lost and ruined and in the process had risked his humanity and now, for all that he had done, he was to be judged.

"Great is the darkness of his soul. It wraps around him like a mantle and perverts his thoughts." A tall lady clad in grey spoke, her words swept over all and washed away exhaustion.

"There is no respite in his future; suffering is all that he has known; it is all he understands." Spoke a man clad in green, whose words lulled all senses into relaxation.

"Yet his heart remains pure and the light in his soul as yet still battles with the darkness, this poor creature before us may yet be redeemed." Spoke a lady cloaked in light and blinding to look upon.

"This may be true yet he may still fall to the darkness that surrounds him. What possible future may lie before him? If we were to gift him the chance to redeem himself; would he yet fall or will he remain true?" Spoke a man clad in red and brown, strong and stout of appearance.

"The sorrow of his soul is great but not unceasing. If by our mercy he may find the path to his redemption then it is but a trinket to part with." Spoke a woman clad in grey who wept constantly as she spoke.

"If indeed his soul can be salvaged from the darkness then it may be worth our efforts to do so." Spoke a man formed seemingly by the waves and foam of the seas.

"I do not agree. The darkness of his soul is great, this is clear for all to see, should we show him mercy and gift unto him his freedom he would cause more ill than good." Spoke the tallest and strongest in appearance of those present.

"I do not suggest we give him a freedom un-tethered, Lord Tulkas. I suggest that a task be set by which he could prove his worth or fall, a task that will decide his fate and the fate of the world." The man made of waves answered

"And what is this task that you would have us set?" Tulkas responded.

"I would send him to Arda. The darkness that threatens that land is great and the people there will require any aid possible if they are to survive it. We have sworn to remain uninvolved in these matters but have we not sent emissaries of our will to the aid of these people? Why not charge him with this task also and let him decide his fate by his own actions?" The man of waves continued.

"But would we not risk the safety of the very people we wish to protect?" asked the man in green.

"Perhaps it would be so," the man of waves answered, "a gamble this may be but I do not believe it would be one which would not bear fruit. There is light in his heart still and this, I believe, would lead him to complete his task even if he should come to resent it."

"I must agree." The weeping lady interjected. "He is a creature of duty and would follow any task assigned him through until its end. Let this task be his judgement and by his actions let him be judged."

"I feel this course proposed is too dangerous. I do not dare think what dangers he may bring unto the world should we give him this opportunity and he fail in the task assigned him and fall to the darkness of his soul. Far better to keep him contained and controlled than risk him bringing more darkness into being." Argued the man clad in reds and browns.

"You have sat in silence throughout husband. Have you no opinion as to what his fate shall be?" Asked the lady clad in light.

All eyes turned as one to a figure clad in regal blue sitting upon a throne. This man turned his gaze to each in turn before rising, in silence still, and advancing upon the prone figure of the young man whose fate was being decided. There he stood for a time, unmoving, until at last he spoke;

"Indeed the darkness of your soul is great and it troubles me. What future you may bring, child, unto this world, for good or ill, I cannot say, yet it is not the will of Eru to see you caged, but freedom will not be given to you either. The sorrow of you soul shall be your chains, forever you shall be bound by them, until you fall into darkness forever or once again walk into the light. A task shall be set, and by the outcome shall you find your salvation or else your ruin. To Arda you shall be sent and to the task of the Istari shall you be assigned. Your fate shall rest in your own hands. This is the judgement of Manwe."

One by one each of the beings who debated the fate of the young man began to fade from view until at last there was only Manwe and a figure clad in a black hooded cloak. But soon Manwe too faded as the black cloaked figure advanced past him to stand over the judged.

"Hear me child." The figure spoke in a cold, stern voice. "Your task shall be great made even greater by the torment of your soul, should you fall, your doom shall be equal to this. Remember this always."

And with this at last all faded and the young man was left alone.

. . . . . . . . .

The storm during the night had flooded the Greylin River and its banks had burst drowning great swaths of land beneath its waters. Many farmers were out early and working hard in an attempt to push the river back.

They were strong and hardy folk in these parts. The land they lived in was a dangerous place for it was close to the Misty Mountains where many Goblins, Orcs and Trolls dwelt and would often walk abroad and hunt in the realms of man and elf. But also it was very close to the Grey Mountains which housed the dreaded Long Worm. Though the Long Worm rarely travelled abroad the mere knowledge of his presence was enough to imbed fear in all who dwelt nearby.

So a river bursting its banks was not something that would slow them down nor make them abandon their work.

Though this was a small settlement of forty or so people they worked as if there were triple their number and by midday they had pushed the river back many yards.

"A good days work, wouldn't you say Beor?" asked a man.

"So far, yes, but there is still much more to do before nightfall, I do not dare risk remaining out here during the night." Beor answered. "The Goblins have been more active recently and come closer every night. We cannot afford to be complacent."

"Always so serious Beor, it is a wonder how you ever managed to win the heart of Freya!" a different man said in jest. "Goblins have not threatened our settlement for fifteen years; they know to leave us in peace."

"Nothing is ever certain Leod. We know not why we have been left in peace by the foul creatures of the mountain for these past years and to let down our guard is to invite ruin" Beor reprimanded.

"You worry too much." Leod dismissed quickly.

"And you worry too little." said Beor.

"How fares your wife these days Beor?" Another man interjected before the disagreement could escalate. "I heard that you are soon to be a father once more"

"She is aglow and more beautiful now than I have ever known her to be." Beor answered as he took the bait and the conversation turned.

"So you say every day when asked!" Leod laughed.

"And the truth I speak!" Beor said earnestly. "Every day I spend with her she becomes more beautiful, every hour spent away from her merely increases my longing to see her and bask in her presence."

"By the Valar! You speak as though you were a child enraptured by your first maiden!" continued Leod in a jest.

"I do not!" Beor denied but before he could say anymore a cry arose and interrupted them

"There is something in the river!" a scout shouted. Automatically every man rose and took up whatever was close at hand that could pass for a weapon.

"Is it man or Goblin?!" Beor shouted in answer, taking the role as leader as he often did.

"I cannot see; he is too far away!" came the reply and silence answered him as all waited anxiously for more news. At last the scout cried again "It is a man! He is not moving!"

"Quickly! We must get him out of the river and on to dry land!" Beor said as waded into the swollen river. Though he could not yet see the man he was moving so as to intercept him.

Soon a figure half submerged in the river water appeared nearby and Beor along with three other men moved out to intercept his path and drag the unconscious figure back to dry land. Once laid out Beor quickly checked the body for signs of life, they were faint but he found them. He stepped back to take a proper look at the man he had just dragged from the river.

The man was young, young enough to have little to no facial hair, he had black hair that, though matted and filthy, sat in a ruffled mess about him, he was fair of face, save for a jagged scar on his forehead, and was small and lightly built, perhaps underweight. The clothes he was wearing could be described as robes, black robes at first glance but a dark green upon closer inspection, with a similarly blackish green pointed hat attached to his neck by a piece of cord and in his right hand he clutched a small polished wooden stick tightly.

"…he is but a boy…" Beor gasped.

"He is running a terrible fever. If he does not get treatment soon he may not live." Leod remarked as he knelt by the boy.

A moment's silence, then Beor spoke. "We'll take him to the village. Freya and Frewyn can see to him."

. . . . . . . . .

When the boy awoke he found himself in an unfamiliar room. It was a small room with four wooden walls and a thatched roof. There was a window covered by a ragged cloth in the way of a curtain and a doorframe blocked by a wooden door.

His immediate reaction was to panic.

"Where am I?!" he thought before the more pressing question of "Who am I?!" struck his mind.

He sat in silence shifting through his thoughts and trying to make sense of what he had found. His mind was a jumble of different memories, feelings and thoughts none of which made immediate sense and all of which felt unfamiliar to him, but eventually he was able to discern one term by which he could describe himself.

"Harry Potter? I'm Harry Potter? Yes….yes, that's right. But, what…how…how did I get here? Where is here anyway?"

Resolving himself to find out he threw the covers off and dragged himself out of the cot. Stumbling a bit as he stood up he staggered to the window. Moving the rag out of the way he looked outside to find that he was in a small village with only one road and several similarly wooden, thatched roofed houses. At a certain angle he could see a river in the distance.

"Is this even England anymore?"

Turning away from the window he made his way back to the cot and sat with a sigh. Forcing his mind to work harder he struggled to remember anything that might help him but no memories that surfaced seemed of immediate help and despair grasped him.

He threw himself back on the cot and cast an arm across his eyes. Letting his mind go blank he sat there unmoving, allowing his despair to sweep through him.

As he lay there in his gloom he began to hear muffled voices and movement from the next room. Running a hand through his hair he sat up and sighed. Presumably the commotion in the next room was his hosts so, he decided, it would be a good idea to go and say hello.

Looking around the room he found his clothes piled on a stool nearby. Picking them up and sorting through them he suddenly noticed something, his wand was missing. This sent him into another panic and he scrambled around the room looking for it. He was just looking under his cot when the door opened.

A gasp gained his attention. He shot up and knocked his head on the cot. Bringing his head out of from under the cot a hand shot to the back of his skull as he hissed in pain. Rubbing his head he sat up in a kneeling position and turned in the direction of the door.

Standing there was a young, blond headed woman wearing a somewhat tarnished short green dress over a white shirt. She was thin but possessing some muscle-mass and pretty in a plain sort of way. She was looking at him in some surprise and embarrassment. She was carrying a bowl.

"Uh, hi," he said as he continued to rub his sore head, "um…I don't suppose you've seen a small stick around here anywhere have you?"

She didn't respond but continued to stare at him. The silence unnerved him.

"Er, look, I'm sorry if I startled you or anything, not that I'd understand how, but, the thing is, that stick is important to me. It's about eleven inches and made of holly, its polished so should shine a bit and…er…are you even listening to me?" She didn't appear to be paying attention to a single word he said.

"Er…" following her gaze he looked down and took stock of his state of dress, or rather, lack there of," Oh God!" he said and grasped his robes and held them in front of him. "I'm really, really sorry! I-I forgot about that, I was so busy, I, look, lets just forget about this, you turn around, I'll get dressed and we can start again."

Still no reply. The woman continued to stare at him, but less in embarrassment, more in confusion. She said something.

"Sorry?" Harry said, "I didn't quite get that. Can you repeat it please?"

She said something different.

"I thought so," Harry sighed. "I didn't understand a word of that."

~End Chapter One~

Any reviews will be welcomed.


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not own the works of Tolkien or the works of J.K. Rowling. I am merely borrowing them for this story.

Summary: A Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings crossover that's a bit different to the norm.

AUTHORS NOTE: I know I'm sort of going back on what I said in the first chapter as I post this – that being that it's a quicker update than I intended – but I'm relatively happy with how this chapter turned out and the next chapter is progressing well at the moment so I'm content to put this up now.

I thought about responding to individual reviews but instead I have decided to try and stick to the story and provide extra information through that. I will however make a response to Lord Damon Shadowmage who complemented my writing and say thank you for that but to warn you that the quality of my work generally deteriorates as the story progresses, so don't be too hasty to praise it.

And also I will make a quick response to dead feather just because I don't know how to get this bit of info across in the story, I have specifically chosen to use a alternate version of Harry Potter for this story but have yet to decide exactly what happened to him before his arrival in Middle Earth in this story so I'm not entirely decided on what age he is but, as I write the story I imagine him as being in his late teens. And yes this is still a Lord of the Rings crossover as the story I'm basing it on has far more to do with that than the Silmarillion, the Hobbit or Tolkien's other works.

In addition I have decided to change the way I divide sections as I don't think the way I did it in the last chapter stood out very well.

Code for the following chapter: English Westron

~ Chapter Two ~

As Harry slid his robes onto his shoulders and tied them together the woman attempted to talk to him again but it was to no avail. Whatever language she was speaking was completely undecipherable to him. He sighed again.

"Look," Harry tried, "maybe we can work something out here. Let's start with names, shall we? I'm Harry," he pointed at himself, "Harry."

A look of understanding came across her face. She placed the bowl down on a nearby stool and stood up straight. She pointed at herself and said clearly and slowly; "Frewyn."

"Frewyn?" Harry repeated, "Kind of a strange name but who am I to judge? Nice to meet you Frewyn." He extended a hand towards her.

The newly christened Frewyn however stared at his hand in confusion, obviously wondering what he wanted her so do.

He decided to help her about a bit and, with as charming a smile as he could muster he said, "This is how we say hello where I'm from." then reached out to grasp her hand but she stepped back.

She said something else in an obviously confused and slightly scared voice as she backed right up against the wall. Realizing that he may have made a mistake Harry held his hands up in a sign of non-aggression and backed away.

"Sorry," he said as he made his way over to his cot and sat down so as to appear even less of a threatening figure. "There, see, I'm not going to hurt you. I only want to talk…or try to at any rate"

After a moment Frewyn, now apparently certain he wasn't going to do anything to her, relaxed a bit and moved away from the wall. She said something as she picked up the bowl and turned towards Harry.

"What? What do you want to do with that?" Harry asked as he sat up a bit straighter and tried to see what was in the bowl. She put her hand into the bowl and brought up a wet rag. Then she imitated washing her face before she held the rag out to him. "Oh! I see. It's for washing. Alright, just put it down there and I'll see about it in a minute."

She stood still for a bit before Harry pointed to the stool and motioned her to put the bowl down there. Once she had he motioned for her to leave the room and give him some privacy while he washed.

As soon as she had left the room he removed his robes again and approached the bowl. Picking the wet rag up he began to wash his body with a sigh.

The language barrier was going to be a real pain, he thought. Names could be exchanged and some things could be worked out through gestures but the inability to communicate with each other with words would make finding out exactly where he was or what had happened impossible.

More importantly he would have to find his wand soon, but this would make a new problem. He couldn't risk doing magic around Frewyn and whoever else was around here until he found out whether or not they knew about magic in the first place. And judging by the building, the furniture and the washing facilities it was probably a safe bet that they were Muggles from a particularly impoverished part of the world.

This meant he would have to search for his wand manually, once he got out of this room.

. . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

. . . . . . . . . .

"Mother!" Frewyn called as soon as she had left the room. "Mother! He has woken!"

"Calm yourself Frewyn! This is hardly any news to get exited about." Freya said as she rose from her chair by the fire to approach her daughter. Freya was much like her daughter in that she was blond headed and fair of face, a considerable older face but fair nonetheless, one clear difference however was that Freya was very noticeably pregnant. "I trust you left him to wash himself?"

"Well…yes, but he was talking in a strange tongue so I cannot be sure whether he truly understood." Frewyn answered. "I could not understand anything he said and I doubt he understood me either."

"A strange tongue?" Freya said in a surprised tone before she shook her head and placed that information in the back of her mind. "Never mind, never mind, I am sure we can find out more about him in time. Now then, he has been asleep for several days and I do not doubt he will be hungry, why don't you find your father and tell him our guest had awoken and I'll make some food."

"But…" Frewyn began.

"No arguments girl! I have a lot to do here and do not have time for that." Her mother said and she turned and began to walk towards the pantry.

Frewyn sighed and left the house to find her father.

. . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

. . . . . . . . . .

A few weeks had passed since Harry had woken and unintentionally flashed the daughter of his host. He had fallen into a routine of waking with the sun, helping the matriarch of the house prepare the morning meal and cleaning up in its aftermath before spending the rest of the day with a local elder called Leor who was attempting to teach him the language.

He was not the best of students.

He found it hard to grasp even the basics of the language and after his thirteen lessons to date he had managed to acquire all the vocabulary of a two year old and had to resort to pointing at things and repeating words such as "want" and "need" in the local dialect to get make his point. Thankfully he had managed to learn the local equivalent of "please" and "thank you" and "sorry" so he didn't appear totally rude, but nevertheless it was trying.

Meeting the patriarch of the household was somewhat daunting. Beor was an intimidating man. He was tall and powerfully built, such as one who has worked all his life in physical labour would be, and with his full beard and shoulder-length dark hair he had all the appearance of a Wildman. Luckily however his intimidating size hid a kind man and Harry had discovered quite early that Beor was not about to throw him out on the streets until he could fend for himself, or at least talk the local tongue.

Thankfully too, Harry had found his wand. It had been placed amongst the firewood and kindling, which did annoy him a bit but he was just glad that it wasn't damaged. Without knowing where he was there was no way he could replace it.

Freya reminded Harry very much of Mrs Weasley as she bustled around the house doing what chores she could. It was clear to anyone who even looked briefly in her direction that she was quite pregnant and couldn't do too much so Harry, so as to be a good guest and not just a freeloader, helped her and her daughter with their household chores.

Freya was aglow and generally cheerful. Occasionally her moods would swing in the opposite direction and she would be quite terrifying to be around, not least because she had proven herself able to subdue not only the large Beor but the equally large Leod with a few choice words and a well placed fist.

Frewyn was altogether more difficult to be around. Whenever Harry came within two feet of her she instantly turned beet red and avoided looking at him. It was a perfectly normal reaction for a shy girl but a bit annoying nonetheless.

Harry often found himself accompanying her to the river to collect water or to the local markets to collect food and these trips were filled with a silence made not from the inability to communicate but the awkwardness of two teens who had some attraction between them.

The town itself was small and not unwelcoming. It was not completely hospitable but that was about as much as could be said against it. The men spent most out the day out in the field tending to their livestock or crops or even fishing while the women tended to domestic matters and elders spent their time teaching the young…and Harry.

Such was his life that he spent all his time doing domestic work and learning with children.

The more immediate problem however was his memory which remained jumbled and confused. Beyond his name, the knowledge that he was a wizard and the occasional glimpse of some people or place he really couldn't make heads or tails of any memory he had. It was getting to the stage that he was beginning to think they weren't his memories at all.

. . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

. . . . . . . . . .

"Teaching that boy is impossible Freya! He is incapable of grasping all but the most basic of words!" a diminutive grey haired man complained. He was missing a leg and carrying a cane.

"Surely he cannot be un-teachable Leor," Freya answered. "He is a hard worker and seems such an honest child. I am sure he tries hard to learn."

Leor sighed. "There is no doubt that he tries hard but the lad does not have the capacity to understand our tongue. I fear it would take the rest of my lifetime to teach him all of it and maybe even longer still."

"Oh…"Freya gazed inside her home where the young man was busy cleaning the floor with some concern. "There must be something you can do. He was in such a state when he was brought here; it is a wonder the poor boy recovered. Can you not at least persevere until he can at least speak in sentences?"

Leor turned to Freya and followed her gaze before he sighed again. "If it were any other than you I would have never expected to see the child at all. You have done him a great kindness, no doubt, but I wonder whether it is truly worth it. Why did you not cast him out when he regained his strength? Why do you persist in you efforts to aid him? He is nothing but a stranger to you."

"Because I could not live with myself if I were to cast a child out into the world without even being able to understand the words of others. Helping him is the right thing to do" Freya leant back against the doorframe and turned her gaze to the sky. "Besides, Frewyn is smitten with him and I know she would not forgive me if I were to force him out."

"Ah! I see!" he said with a smile

"And what is it you see Leor?!" she said, turning a glare to the elder.

Leor turned his smile in her direction. "Your daughter, you have always coddled that child."

"Nonsense, I treat her no differently to any other child." She denied

"Perhaps," he said dismissively and sniffed shortly. "Whatever the case, send the boy to me tonight and perhaps I may be able to teach further."

"Thank you Leor"

"Never mind all that! You can thank me by getting rid of him! The sooner the better!"

. . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

. . . . . . . . . .

"I honestly do not know what is wrong with that boy!" Beor bemoaned as he slammed his flagon on the table

"He is trying his best I am sure. It cannot be easy to learn a new tongue." Leod consoled, leaning on an elbow so as to face his companion.

"You do not know how hard it is to have someone who you cannot speak to and cannot speak to you living in your own home. It is all fine and good that he works hard and he has been a great help to Freya yet I am constantly worried about his intentions. Without being able to question him I have no way of knowing what he will do or what he wants to do." Beor grumbled as he sank into his folded arms.

"So why did you let him stay?" Leod asked, "If you are so worried about this"

"I could not throw the boy out!" Beor answered. "He was almost dead, he is underfed and weak. He wouldn't last an hour on his own! Beside…Frewyn has taken a liking to him."

"You're her father Beor and a well respected man in this community; you should not allow your love for your daughter to blind you to that." Leod reprimanded.

"I know that! I have always known that!" Beor responded angrily and then sighed "But Frewyn is just like her mother. Though she is a blushing maiden whenever the boy is near she is like a cornered she-wolf otherwise."

Leod laughed. "What? The mighty Beor afraid of his own daughter?!"

"Afraid of her? No. I am afraid of what she may do if I were to deny her. I do not doubt that she would follow him without hesitation should I cast him out. I could not live with myself in the knowledge that I drove her away." Beor drank his ale from his flagon once more "And Freya! She would never forgive me!"

"Then you must endure." Replied Leod, now that he understood his friend was in no mood for jokes. "At least until he is ready to leave on his own or until you can get him to leave with no problems remaining with your family"

Beor sighed again. "You are right, of course, but I…there are times when I regret saving him."

"You don't mean that." Leod said after a gulp of ale.

"…no, no I suppose do not. But I do regret letting him stay."

. . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

. . . . . . . . . .

The night was starless as clouds covered the sky and draped the landscape in darkness. There was no light this night save for the candles that lit the local tavern and households along the street.

The settlement was quiet and still. The only sound was the whistling wind, the distant sound of rushing water from the river and the occasional steps of people making their way home from the tavern.

Some distance away from the town, in a scouting outpost, a young man settled in for a night of guard duty. This was a regular duty for everyone who lived in the settlement and had been for years. The job required a skilled eye to watch for movement in the dark as that was when the Goblins and Orcs hunted.

Despite the increased activity of those creatures in recent months this position had been neglected for a while. Beor, in concern for the growing amount of Goblin activity, had tried desperately to improve this in a short amount of time but it was an uphill struggle.

Perhaps it was a result of that negligence, perhaps it was a result of the long, hard days work he had done in the daylight hours or perhaps it was a result of his inexperience, no one knew, but this young man who held this post was about to make the biggest and last mistake of his life.

He fell asleep.

. . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

. . . . . . . . . .

"No! Why must you make this so hard?! It is not that difficult!" shouted Leor angrily

"…sorry" the boy at least had the decency to look abashed, even if he didn't understand what was wrong. Leor, however, was not consoled by this.

"You are, without question, the worst, most incompetent student I have ever had the misfortune to teach! I should wash my hands of you and cast you out! Why I ever agreed to this I shall never know!" the old man threw up his hands and turned away from his hapless student

"…sorry" the boy said again in a subdued tone.

"Of course you are! You are always sorry!" Leor raged. "Sorry does not help you learn!"

"Sorry….please?" the boy held a piece of parchment, offering it in Leor's direction.

"What is the point?! You will never understand it! When I am dead in my grave and gone to the halls of my fathers you will still be ignorant! You are un-teachable!" Leor grasped his cane and hauled himself up onto his one remaining foot. Then he hobbled to the door and pushed it open.

The boy stared at him with innocent eyes, the parchment still in hand and his face a picture of hopeful naivety. "Please?" he said again.

Leor glared and thrust his hand at the door. "Leave!" He said. "Leave me be! I can teach you nothing! Go back to wherever it is you came from!"

The boy's face fell and the hope dwindled but still he tried again. "Please?" his voice quiet and pleading. He was willing to learn, that was undeniable, but willingness only went so far.

Leor sighed. It was hard to hate someone who tried so earnestly to learn what you taught, but it was easy to get frustrated and annoyed. "Go," he said shaking his head, all his anger drained, "come back tomorrow and we'll try again. I need a break."

The boy sighed and seemed to resign himself to the fact that his lesson was over. He collected all he had brought with him in a small sack that he placed over his shoulder and walked towards the door. Stopping in the door frame he turned to Leor and asked quietly; "…tomorrow?"

"Yes, yes! Tomorrow! Now don't hang around all night I am tired and want to rest." Leor answered and he pushed the boy out of the door.

"Thank you" the boy said before walking being his walk to his temporary home with Beor. Leor slammed the door closed and hobbled to his bed with a huff.

. . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

. . . . . . . . . .

Harry stared at the closed door of his teacher for a moment before he turned away and, with a sigh, began to walk away. He supposed he couldn't blame Leor for getting frustrated with him; after all he was frustrated with himself as well, but even so the disappointment at being cast aside still lingered.

Walking down the dark street towards his temporary home a cool breeze blew around him. He could hear the occasional sounds of people moving and stirring in the night, of punters returning to their homes after a nights drinking in the inn and the ever present dull roar of the river flowing nearby.

His gracious hosts would no doubt be in bed before he returned, except the master of the house who would probably be brooding in front of the fire as was his usual habit after a nights drinking.

Beor was an okay sort of chap but Harry got the feeling that he held some hostility towards him for some reason, probably to do with Freywn's crush on him. But really that could hardly be blamed on Harry could it? It wasn't as if he'd charmed her to like him.

Stopping for a moment several houses down from the house of Beor Harry gazed up at the sky. There was no real reason for it, he just felt like doing so, but as he watched the dark clouds move around the sky and glimpsed the moon behind it he turned his thoughts to the future.

How long could he stay here? It wasn't a bad life really, bit uneventful but not bad, but every now and then he got the feeling that he wasn't supposed to be here, that he had somewhere else he was supposed to be.

Maybe someone was looking for him, someone who knew what had happened to him, someone who could help him sort the jumble of his mind.

Maybe…

…Maybe not. Maybe he had just been dropped here by fate and had nothing left to go back to. Maybe he had no purpose, maybe he was just lost and forgotten…a depressing thought.

A scrabbling sound brought him out of his contemplation. It was a sound not unlike the patter of a rodents feet but the sound was far louder than any rodent cold make. It was soon joined by another sound and then another and another before silence returned.

Unnerved by the sound, Harry's first though was to run for the safety of Beor's house but a second thought swept across his mind telling him that doing that would be cowardly and Ron would never let him live it down….

He therefore decided to investigate.

Another scrabbling sound drew his attention to one of the dark alleyways between the houses. He gazed into it intensely and, after several moments, a shadow twitched…or did it? Did he imagine it? Approaching the alleyway slowly he leant forward and raised his left hand as if it were a shield.

"Hello?" he tried. "Is someone there?"

No response. A shadow definitely twitched in the darkness. Something was definitely hiding there.

He moved closer. "Look, I don't mean any harm, so there's no need to be afraid." Still no response, "If-if your hurt maybe I can help you. Not that I know much about healing mind you but I'm sure that I can find someone to help."

Nothing stirred. A light glinted off of something in the darkness and suddenly Harry found himself staring at two pale eyes. There was something odd about those eyes…

"Hey!" He said, deciding to interpret that odd look as caution. "You can come on out, no ones going to hurt you. There's no need to be frightened."

Harry was almost on top of the alleyway now. Suddenly something felt completely wrong. Why hadn't he had a response? Ok, so he had been using English instead of the local tongue but even then he should at least have gotten a confused reply. So why hadn't he gotten anything.

He leaned into the alleyway.

CLANG!

Harry had leap back just in time to avoid a jagged looking blade as it slammed down where he head would have been. He looked on in shock as the blade disappeared back into the darkness and a creature emerged.

It skin was greenish and its eyes glowed in the meagre moonlight. It wasn't a tall creature - embarrassingly its height was similar to his own – but had a tough, muscular body mass clearly visible under its fur-lined rags that passed for clothes and chain mail. It had a crop of black hair that started in the middle of its forehead and fell behind its neck like a horse's tail, it had slightly pointed ears and its teeth were jagged and broken and clearly displayed as it advanced from the darkness with a growl. It was, in short, the kind of monster parents told their children about to get them to behave.

Suddenly, however, Harry was angry. "What the hell is your problem?!" He shouted at it. The creature merely spat out a harsh reply that sounded, although he could not understand a word of it, like an insult or a threat. "What?! I'm not afraid of you! I've seen nastier things on a lavatory brush!"

The creature response wasn't what Harry expected. It growled again and leapt forward, swinging its jagged blade at him.

Harry dropped to the floor and rolled away, dodging the blade by an inch. His hand immediately flew to the right pocket of his robe but to his horror he discovered his wand wasn't there. "Merlin's Beard!" he cursed. "Of all the times to lose my wand it had to be when some psycho's trying to kill me!"

He leap to his feet and quickly stepped back to avoid another swing of that blade. Before he could get his bearings he found himself ducking and briefly wondered why before he saw another blade pass over his head.

Scrambling some feet away he turned back to look at his attacker. "There are two of them?! Give me a break!" Indeed the first creature had been joined by another and now they both advanced against him, both growling and snarling at him.

Deciding discretion was the better part of valour he turned to run but before he could one of the creatures had leapt upon him and slammed him into the ground. Lying on his side he groaned in pain and turned his gaze up. His attacker had raised its blade above its head and in preparation of a downward swing that would no doubt smash his skull in two.

Acting on instinct he brought his knee up to the creatures back and managed to knock it off balance, giving him enough time to scramble to his feet before he was slammed into the side of a building with a jagged blade to his throat. Luckily his arms were free and he took advantage of it to slam his palms onto the creature pointed ears, forcing the creature to back off.

"Bugger!" he exclaimed as he rolled to dodge the second creature blade as it sliced through the air and embedded itself in the building wall. "What did I do to deserve this?!"

As soon as he was on his feet he was running for Beor's house and hopefully safety but he didn't manage to get more than two feet away before yet another creature, larger than the first two, leapt out of the shadows and swung a blade at him.

He leapt to avoid the blade but found himself tumbling face first onto the ground. Surprised he attempted to stand up and run for salvation once more but his left leg gave out. Looking down he saw blood running down his leg and pooling around him. A gash about two inches in size had been taken out of his calf.

He cursed. Looking up he saw all three creatures advancing on him menacingly. Cursing again he attempted to drag himself away only to find his back soon pressed against a wall. 'Damn!' he thought 'Could this day get any worse?!'

He glowered at his three assailants as they surrounded him. What the hell was going on?! He hadn't done anything to provoke this attack. He'd just been minding his own business and trying to be helpful when they attacked him for no reason. That just made him angry and the more he thought about it the angrier he got, and the pain from the wound in his leg only made him even more irate.

Through the anger and the pain he became aware of the mocking voices of his attackers. Though still undecipherable they were clearly insulting him, threatening him, mocking him. And that wouldn't do.

As the largest of his assailant brought his blade to Harry's throat he grinned a jagged, horrible grin and insulted him once more.

"Back off." Harry's tone was deadpan and in the situation it could be considered a somewhat futile gesture of defiance in the face of certain death however, Harry's emerald eyes sparkled.

A violent gust of wind exploded around the stricken wizard. It blew the three creatures off of their feet and slammed them hard against the wall opposite. There they fell, motionless.

Harry sat there for a moment, grasping his wounded leg, staring at the motionless bodies of his assailants. They might be dead…he could have killed them…it would serve them right, attacking him for no reason.

Summoning his bag, which he had lost in the furore, he sighed in relief and allowed himself to sink into a slouch. Thank god that was over. Maybe staying here wouldn't be as uneventful as he first thought; not if there were green skinned creatures trying to kill him!

The question was; why no one had come to check what all the noise was. He had made quite a ruckus trying to stay alive so surely someone should have come to check.

"Hey?!" He called out, "A little help here!" no answer. "Oh come on! Somebody's gotta be around!"

He sighed again and looked around him to find something to help him get to his feet. The only thing he could find was one of the jagged blades that had almost killed him. Leaning on the wall he pulled himself to his feet and moved the blade so that he could lean on that.

Hissing in pain he took his first hobbling steps towards Beor's house. It seemed a long way away but luckily the bleeding in his leg was stopping so the wound probably wasn't that serious, it just hurt like hell.

"AAARRGGHHH!" a pained scream rose in the night and almost made Harry lose his balance.

As if opening the gate more screams rose up into the night and were followed by shouts and calls of all kinds. Some were panicked, some were pained, some were defiant, some were foul and some were gleeful but altogether they made for a dreadful cacophony of wails and screams.

Oh god. He hadn't thought that there could be more of those things out there. That's probably why no one came to see what was going on a moment ago; they were probably busy fighting for their own lives….or running away, whichever was the most suitable course of action to them.

Still, there was very little he could do without his wand, especially as he had been injured, and that was likely at Beor's so his destination remained the same, but now some more caution was required.

Beor was standing in the door way, a pickaxe in hand, with three or four of the creatures dead around his feet. The big man was sporting several deep cuts and gashes and covered in blood, both his own and his assailants but he was still stood there, alive and guarding his home.

"Still alive?" Beor said in a neutral tone as he saw Harry hobble towards him. "Must have some luck about you."

"You…not…hurt?" Harry said in his broken way and motioned to the house in an attempt to convey his worry about Freya and Frewyn

"Tis a flesh wound." Beor answered. At Harry's curious glace he realized that the question was also about his wife and daughter. "They will be fine boy. I've sent them down river; the Chieftain will not turn them away."

Harry's gaze became confused. "….sorry?"

Beor let out a frustrated huff and answered in a put-upon fashion "They are safe boy! Safe. Do not worry about them; we are in more danger than them."

Harry may not have been able to grasp the language but he wasn't stupid and he was able to pick up that Beor was trying to reassure him that the remaining members of the household had gotten away safely. So he accepted it was a brief sigh of relief before hobbling past the taller man.

"Do not tarry. We must leave soon, before they arrive in greater force" Beor warned him as he passed. Harry gave a murmur of recognition, guessing the meaning of the words, before continuing on into the house.

Reaching the room he had called his own for the last few weeks he threw himself on the cot and placed his bag on the floor beside him. He first needed to tend to his leg which, though not bleeding as badly as before; was still bleeding so he tore off a long strip from the sheet covering his cot and fastened it around his leg as a makeshift bandage. While doing this he reflected on the events of the night.

Now that he wasn't fighting for his life he could admit to himself that he had been a complete moron. Thinking on the event now he knew he could have summoned his wand at anytime and not have had half the trouble he had. Rolling his eyes at his own stupidity as he finished bandaging his leg he sat up and proceeded to do exactly that. He waited for a few moments before seeing his wand fly through the window and land in his hand.

Having his wand back was a major relief to him. He felt completely defenceless without it and, though he had held his own tonight, it was clear that the battle today proved how much he needed it.

Suddenly the screaming began again outside, louder and closer than before and Harry could hear Beor's voice joining in the din, no doubt calling for him to hurry up and get out. He struggled to his feet and began lurched towards the door.

THUNK!

Something blunt hit the wooden wall.

Harry was suddenly more aware of Beor's cries. They were not calls for him to escape, they were battle cries. Those cries were joined by the screams of pain of his enemies and his own howl of pain and anger.

THUNK!

The wall was struck a second time.

Harry wasted no time in following the sounds of battle to come to Beor's aid. He fully intended to use his magic no matter what, statutes of secrecy be damned! This was a life or death situation, he had to do something.

He emerged into the main room and crossed the hall to exit the building and throw himself into the fray, a curse half on his lips when….

…CRACK! SMASH!

The wall gave way under enormous pressure and Harry found himself being buried under rubble. He saw a giant, carrying a wooden club, roaring in anger and triumph. The tall figure of Beor stood, his back to Harry, swinging his pickaxe in a wild fury, yelling incoherently as he did so.

In the midst of this chaos Harry succumbed to the darkness and knew no more.

~ End Chapter Two ~

All reviews welcome.


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I do not own the works of Tolkien or the works of J.K. Rowling. I am merely borrowing them for this story.

Summary: A Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings crossover that's a bit different to the norm.

AUTHORS NOTE: I regret two things that I have previously added to this story. I regret putting the settlement on the Langwell River – I should have put it on the Greylin – and I regret making Harry unable to speak the language. Had I not done both of those things the story would have flowed easier.

Chapter two shows some of my substandard writing ability. The way I have portrayed Harry is, as reviews have shown me, out of character, if I were a good author this would not be the case, also if I were a good author I would have shown you what Harry's relationship with the residents of that settlement was and shown you how his life was rather than telling you. I'm sure I shall see even more failings as the story progresses.

This should be the last chapter that this code is needed for. Code for the following chapter: English Westron

~ Chapter Three ~

A rocking motion, none too gentle, stirred Harry from unconsciousness. It was not a pleasant awakening. Pain surged through his left leg, pain swept up his back and around his torso, pain throbbed in his head and lingered like a thousand sharp knives pricking at his spine.

Groaning he raised his head to look around him and immediately regretted it. Spots danced in front of his eyes, blinding him for a minute or so.

When the spots died down he found himself surrounded by darkness. He could hear the sound of many marching feet seeming to echo and he could feel a cold breeze blowing past his face.

Glancing down he saw that he appeared to be draped over a large rock…a large rock that was moving? Ok, so maybe it wasn't a rock but just looked like it. Some kind of rock-creature? Whatever.

The lumbering steps of the creature were what caused the rocking and the uncomfortably hard and bumpy surface of its shoulder made the journey very unpleasant.

What the hell was going on anyway? Had he been captured? Or was this come kind of rescue party? Where were they taking him? And how long would it be until he'd be allowed to walk himself?

His eyes began to adjust to the darkness and in doing so he became aware that he was no longer in the wide open fields not unlike the Scottish Lowlands he had become accustomed to over the last few weeks. All around him was rock and stone, some carved, some broken, some rubble but clearly rock and stone nonetheless. There was only a dim light of torches in the distances by which to see anything and shadows danced with the flames, making the darkness seem alive.

Surrounding him and the creature that carried him were more of those small, greenish creatures that had attacked the settlement. They were grumbling to each other as they marched forward into the darkness

Harry was not the only human present. About twenty others were being forced to follow those creatures, surrounded, herded like livestock. Amongst them were some familiar faces, no one he knew intimately but people he recognized, they were clearly scared and confused.

A gruff voice shouted a harsh command from the front and the convoy found itself herded into a side chamber where Harry was unceremoniously and none to gently dropped on the ground where the rest of the captured were huddled. This, as to be expected, forced him to vocalize his pain once more.

Once he was on the ground he took stock of his own physical condition. His leg was wounded and he was unlikely to be moving at anything more than a marching pace in the near future, he felt numerous sore spots that were bound to be bruises or bumps or maybe even broken bones or torn ligaments. Needless to say he was no in the best of conditions. Luckily, however, his unconscious mind had recognized the need to keep hold of his wand at all cost and the relief he felt when he could still feel it gripped in his right hand was great.

"You alright lad?" A voice asked in an almost whisper. It came from behind him and sounded somewhat familiar.

Harry turned his head to glance behind him and squinted in an attempt to make out the features of the man sitting there. This was made exponentially hard by the darkness and the pain. Eventually he made a guess; "…Beor?"

"Not quite lad," The man answered with a shake of his head. "Leod"

"Leod…how?" Harry asked, trying to convey all the confusion he felt in two words.

"Good question that! Buggers caught me in bed! No warning. One moment I was…well…you don't need to know about that but, next thing I know three of the damned things are upon me. I'd kill whoever was on guard duty if I was not certain he is already dead. If I could have had a few minutes warning I would have taken many of them down before they could lay a hand on me." Leod answered, his eye burning in anger as he did so.

Harry turned his gaze back to the creatures as they dragged one woman from the group crying and screaming from the room. Several of the creatures remained as an armed guard.

Harry had understood only a few words Leod had said so he went a bit unanswered. He didn't mind really, he'd gotten a bit used to it over the last few weeks, he was able to work out most of what someone was trying to say through body language and the tone of their voice – in Leod's case he had been captured and wasn't happy about it. His thoughts turned to a different question.

"What?" He asked and gestured with a nod towards the armed guard. "What… are they?"

"Goblins lad." Leod said quickly with overtones of disgust and hatred in his voice.

"…Goblins?" Harry had an image of a Goblin. It was a diminutive creature, wearing a suit and standing on a podium with a large book in front of him and a quill in his hand, or otherwise carrying a set of keys standing in front of a doorway. These creatures were nothing like the Goblins he knew.

"Aye, Goblins. Foul creatures. They eat man-flesh, steal livestock and crops and take children from their homes in the dead of night. They are a plague on us all!" Leod continued.

"What…do they…want?" The Goblins he knew were obsessed with gold but he didn't know about these creatures.

"What do they want? Probably to eat us, after torturing us for a while, no doubt." Leod was deadpan. As if confirming this very conclusion and woman's scream echoed through the caverns. The agony expressed in that scream was bone-chilling.

"What can we do? Get away?" Strangely Harry felt no intimidation, no fear, despite the circumstances he found himself in. It was almost familiar to him.

Leod was silent for a moment. "I cannot see a way out lad. We are trapped here, with no weapons and guarded. There are no warriors amongst us and many of us are wounded – including you." He stopped again and glanced around the cavern, counting the guards as he went. "No, escape is impossible. All that is left is to choose which way we die."

Harry wasn't sure he'd understood correctly, certainly he knew he hadn't heard properly but Leod's resigned demeanour to his fate confused him even more than the language barrier did. "…Die?" he asked, wanting clarification on that more than anything.

"Aye, that is what I said." Leod continued in his deadpan tone. "We either die tortured at their hands, and trust me that would be cruelty unimaginable, or we try to fight and bring our deaths upon us sooner. Some may manage to escape if the Valar smile upon them but I do not doubt the Valar have abandoned us to our fate. The only certain point is that we will not live to see the sunlight again."

"I…do not…want…to die." Those words in a different context could sound pathetic, could sound pleading or pitiable but not from the mouth of Harry Potter. Those words, broken though they were, were said with determination and with fury.

"Death will come to us all here lad, but I like your spirit." Leod clapped Harry on the shoulder and as their eyes met the fury that they both held merged and ignited each other. "What say we give them hell before we die? We stand no chance of course but we will die like men!"

Harry, for once, had no trouble understanding his companion. Language was not needed to understand that the two of them were about to throw their lives away for a quicker, more painless death. He turned to watch the Goblins, to bide his time and wait for the moment to strike and grasped his wand tightly.

. . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

. . . . . . . . . .

The Goblin's were not efficient guards. While it was true that two stood vigil in front of the only entrance to the chamber the other nine of them crouched around a fire, eating, bickering and fighting with each other. Occasionally other Goblins would arrive and take away one of the prisoners but they didn't stay long, too obsessed with their desire to inflict pain on their victims to notice much.

Leod had been secretly moving around the company of prisoners, attempting to convince them that they were better of fighting and dying quickly than waiting for a rescue that would probably never come and being taken away to suffer a slow and agonizing death. He convinced all but a few. They waited only the large man's signal and would be prepared to attack as soon as possible.

While Leod had been busy with this duty Harry had concerned himself with studying how the Goblins behaved. He noticed their haphazard approach to guarding their prisoners and noted one other thing, every two or three hours the Goblins on the door would switch and for a vital five to six minutes the Goblins would argue over who was to stand guard next. While this happened they were distracted and the doorway left almost open. If they were to have any chance of escape they would have to move at that time. He had explained this to Leod by way of drawing in the dirt, just visible in the flickering light of the Goblins' fire. It had taken a while to make himself understood but he had managed it in the end.

The time would soon be upon them and they were as ready as they could ever hope to be.

There was commotion in the entrance way. One of the Goblin guards ran to his companions around the fire and said something which forced them all to stand up and move to stand to attention in front of the entrance.

"What are they doing?!" Harry whispered harshly to Leod.

"I don't know lad, must be something important to get them moving like that. Something must be coming." Leod answered, thoughtfully.

"Trouble." Harry answered; completely sure that what was going to happen would be no good.

Leod nodded "No doubt."

Four Goblins rushed into the room, each carrying large spears and small circular shields, they wore helmets and mismatched pieces of armour that were partially rusted. They were clearly more important than the lowly Goblins assigned to guard some farmers. They filed into the chamber before moving off to one side.

Entering the chamber, carried by six Goblins dressed only in rags, sitting upon a cushioned chair was a Goblin that was twice as big as any of the others and three times as fat. The chair was lowered to the ground and the Goblin sat up straighter in his chair.

Leod hissed at the sight of him.

"I bid you welcome men-folk of the north land!" The fat Goblin. If anyone was surprised to hear the Goblin speak in their own tongue they kept that surprise to themselves. "Welcome to my home. I hope you have not found it un-welcoming"

No one answered him. Some dared not, or risk the anger of the clearly powerful and important Goblin to fall upon them, while others bit their tongue out of blind fury and could not bring themselves to converse.

"Oh dear, it seems you have not enjoyed my hospitality." The Goblin continued in a mocking tone. The Goblins around him snickered. "Well then I must try harder to help you enjoy your stay. You will all discover what true Goblin hospitality is but do not be afraid; few of you are likely to come to know it for long."

Harry could hear Leod growl beside him. It was as like an animal, a wolf or hound, cornered and injured and angry. Harry could emphasize but it would do no good for any of them to attack now while the heavily armed Goblins were nearby. So he grasped Leod's wrist and held him tight, keeping him in place.

"Others will come." Someone from the crowd said. "They will come!"

"Others?!" The fat Goblin laughed, it was a thoroughly unpleasant sound, made even worse by the harsh laughter of his followers. "There are no other that would dare enter my domain, you are alone. Your Chief is foolish and frail, your warriors dispersed and weak, I am lord of this realm and you are playthings to my will. You shall learn to despair of this. And rejoice in the knowledge that you are serving my will."

The cries of denial and objection rose from the captured, much to the amusement of the Goblins. The Goblin chief gesture to one of his armed guards who nodded and advanced on the prisoners. An Goblin armoured grabbed a woman – a girl in truth, she could only have been fourteen at most – and brought her, kicking and screaming, forward to be inspected.

"I think…" The Goblin Chief began before pausing; he turned his gaze at his prisoners and noted the girl's mother weeping and being held back and basked in the torment he had created. "She shall have the honour of enjoying my hospitality first. I may return her to you once I am done, or I may keep her." He laughed at the tormented wails of mother and daughter. "Come. The night is young and I would not be a proper host if I did give her all of my attention."

The chair was raised off the ground as the girl was ushered out of the chamber by two armoured Goblins. The Goblin Chief was lift up and began to follow them when Leod's patience finally broke.

With a roar he tore himself from Harry's grasp and leap at the Goblin Chief but before he could lay hands on him he was thrown to the ground by five Goblins and held there, with a knife to his throat.

"You monster!" He cried. "I do not know how - I do not care how but you will pay!"

The Goblin Chief laughed once more and turned in his seat to regard Leod. "Many better than you have tried to take my head and all have failed. There is no man who is my equal, none who can surpass me."

Unabashed and unafraid Leod answered in challenge. "Had I my axe now I would cut you down! You are a coward! You come like a thief in the night and torment women and children! Give me a weapon and face me, one to one, and we shall see if you have no equal!"

"Ha! You?! You are unworthy! Caught in you bed without as much as a fight! Not even your greatest warrior could stand against me! He fell screaming and crying in pain and despair as I crushed him!" The Goblin Chief answered in derision.

"You lie!" Leod denied.

"Here." The Goblin chief said as he threw a sack from his chair that landed next to Leod's head. "This is the proof of my words. Think on them before you challenge me again." And with that he was gone.

As the crowd of Goblins dispersed and went back to what they were doing before Leod reached out for the sack. With some trepidation he opened it and looked inside the immediately pulled back with a moan of anguish as he wished he hadn't.

Harry, in morbid curiosity, advanced to kneel beside Leod and took the bag from him then glanced inside. He too immediately wished he had not for inside the sack was the severed head of Beor, his gracious host. Harry felt very ill indeed.

"Two hours..." Leod muttered. "Two hours."

. . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

. . . . . . . . . .

"'ere why do we have to guard that filth?" One Goblin asked another and gestured towards the prisoners.

"Cause Boldog told us to." the other answered.

The first Goblin snorted "Boldog don't know what he's doing no more. Day's was when we'd slaughter the lot of them and be done with it, none of this _hospitilizin_'. I miss that."

"Well times're changin' and you got ta live with it." The second Goblin responded. "Boldog said we gotta teach 'em whose boss round 'ere and we can't do that by killing 'em all."

"How 'bout the odd one then?" The first Goblin said. "Can't I have just one of 'em? That little one on the end's been starin' at us for ages. I don't like it."

It was the second Goblin's turn to snort. "Ain't no way that's happenin'! We ain't gonna get any of 'em. They're all called fer."

"But who's gonna know. It's just the little one, no one'll miss just a little one. Boldog and 'is lapdogs can't even tell 'em apart anyway." begged the first Goblin.

"No! I aint gonna get in trouble just cause yer can control yerself!" The second Goblin refused.

"Come on! What's the harm? If no one squeals no one knows." The first tempted.

"No way!" the second continued his refusal.

"Why not?! We deserve some fun! We've been guarding the filth for ages!"

"Shut yer mouth!" A third interrupted. "It's yer turn to guard the door."

"It ain't my turn! I did it last time!" The first goblin denied.

"Yer lying scum!" The second accused. "Yer aint done it fer hours!"

"I 'ave! I did it when yer were stuffin' yer face." Answered the first.

The second shoved the first roughly "Yer were stuffin' yer face next ta me! Yer tried to steal my meat!"

"I don't care what yer were doing! One of yer have got ta go guard the door!" the third interjected.

"Yer keep yer fat nose out of it yer dungfilth! It ain't got nothin' to do with yer!" The first shot back angrily.

"Bite yer tongue maggot! Befer I rip it from yer mouth!" The third angrily retorted.

With a cry the first Goblin threw himself at the Third and a brawl began. The second Goblin threw himself into the fray and was followed by another and another until five or six of them were hitting, biting and scratching each other in a melee. The Goblins around the fire watched the action and cheered the brawling group on and in turn the Goblin's guarding the door turned their attentions to the brawl.

CRACKLE

The fire began to burn with a greater fury.

CRACKLE

The Goblins, seemingly unaware of the growing heat and intensity of the flame, were absorbed in the brawl.

CRACKLE

Emerald eyes glimmered in the darkness, gazing intently towards the fire.

BOOM!

The fire burst up into a column of smoke and flame. The Goblins around it were thrown off of their feet and scrambled away from the out of control flame. The Goblins began to run around in a panic, some looking for water to douse the flame and some just running around in circles unable to think of anything constructive to do.

"Beor!" Shouting the name of his murdered friend Leod threw himself on the closed Goblin to him and grasped its head and, with a quick twist, broke it neck. Picking up the Goblin's knife he led the charge as the rest of his fellow prisoners followed him.

Harry, wounded as he was, could not charge with Leod and found himself left behind. But he did not stay idle. Concern for the elder man drove him to follow in Leod's wake. All around him were the cries of fury of battle and the cries of pained anguish that followed a mortal wound. It was a hopeless situation. There would be no victory, or at least no victory with any meaning, and although he had played a major part in the creation of this, now that it had started he began to question his own judgement.

A cry from before him drew his attention to the front. There the Goblins had formed a line before the Chamber entrance, only four of them but each carrying formidable looking swords. Several of the prisoners had attempted to reach the door and escape while the Goblins were confused but none had made it and were now being cut down with ease by the resurgent Goblins.

Leod charged regardless, fearing neither injury nor death, thrusting and slashing his stolen blade with abandon. His fury was great, apparently uncontrollable, but appeared to Harry as recklessness. There he was, one man with a knife, charging four Goblins, each armed with swords and armoured in mail. He stood no chance on his own.

Breaking himself from his stupor he moves as quickly as his injured leg could carry him in the direction of the Chamber door, praying he would reach it in time to help Leod.

A sword swept over his head and Harry was force to throw himself to the ground. No sooner had he done this than the blade came stabbing down towards him. He rolled out of the way just in time to avoid it only to receive a kick in his side that left him doubled over in pain.

A cry drew Harry's attention briefly to the entrance where Leod had met the Goblin defenders. The large man was crying in fury as he drove forward, his body litter with gashes and scratches from the Goblin's blade, his blood staining his clothes.

But although he was worried about Leod he had his own troubles. Turning his attention to the Goblin attacking him he was forced to move again to avoid another blow from the sword. He tried to stand only for his left leg to collapse under him.

"Damn it!" he cursed. Looking up he saw the Goblin raise its sword above its head for a downward swing and knew he had to do something or else he was dead. With a glare he brought his wand up quickly to point at the Goblin and shouted "Expelliarmus!"

The Goblin, a shocked look on its face, flew across the chamber and was lost in the darkness. Its sword seemed to hover in mid-air for a moment before it dropped to the floor with a clang.

"What is wrong with this place?!" Harry grumbled to himself as he picked himself up off the floor. "The Goblin Wars ended hundred of years ago people!"

He picked up the Goblin's sword and turned to march towards the Chamber door where Leod was still battling with three Goblin guards. Harry raised his wand again and aimed at one of the Goblins. "Stupefy!" he called and watched as the red light hurtled across the chamber. It hit a Goblin dead centre in its chest and the Goblin fell to the floor, incapacitated,

Leod brought his knife down in an arc and imbedded it a Goblin's neck with a vicious joy before the feeling was drowned out by a pain in his side. The last remaining Goblin had pieced his side with its sword. With a growl Leod clasped his hands together and swung his arms at the Goblin with all his strength. A sickening thud followed and the Goblin fell to the ground, knocked out if not dead.

The chaos was now dying down. The Goblins, armed though they were, had been overwhelmed by magic, numbers and surprise and had been killed of fled but the victory was gained at a cost. Only three of the prisoners had managed to survive the encounter and one of them had suffered a mortal wound.

"Leod?!" Harry called out in concern as he approached the larger man. Leod had slumped against the wall, his hand clasped tightly to his side in a vein attempt to keep the blood from pouring out of the gaping wound in his side. "Your hurt! Is it bad?"

"I fear so lad." Leod answered with a grimace of pain and a sharp intake of breath. Just talking sent unimaginable pain through his body. He continued in gulping breaths and short sentences. "Listen. There is not…much time. Take whoever…you can and…try to escape. It is probably hopeless…but…it is worth a…try…eh?"

"But…" Harry began.

"There is no time!" Leod interrupted as he slid to the floor. "The Goblin's…will return…with greater numbers…if there is…only a small hope…of escape…you must take it! Forget about me…I am already…dead."

"But Leod…I…"

Leod smiled up at him through the pain, his eyes started to glaze over. "Do not fret lad…it was…one hell of a battle! I am…glad that I…died this way. I shall be able…to look…Beor…in the eye when I…meet him once more…"

Shouts and screams in the hall accompanied but drumming and horns altered them to the Goblin's imminent arrival. With this sound the one other survivor in the room ran through the doorway to escape.

Leod face became panicked. "Go!" he said earnestly. "Go! If you are trapped here…you shall never escape!"

Harry himself was torn. He didn't want to leave Leod there to the mercies of the Goblin's but he knew nothing of healing and Leod was badly wounded. He wrestled with himself for a good few minutes before, with a frustrated sound he began moving out of the room. He was halfway out of the door when he stopped and turned back.

Leod was on his side now, blood pooling around him, life leaving him. "Go…" he whispered.

"I am sorry." Harry said then turned and fled.

. . . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

. . . . . . . . . . .

The Boldog was not pleased. "Can somebody explain to me how a group of unarmed _farmers_ managed to killed nine of my warriors and escape?" His voice was cold and calm and the other Goblins shrank from him.

"Boldog, your greatness," one of them cowered. "They wasn't jus' farmers sir. They 'ad sum kind'o magic-type power sir."

"Excuses, Gorbuk, are worthless." The Boldog continued in his unnaturally calm voice.

"But it's true Boldog sir! I saw 'im! 'e's got this stick thin, see, that 'e pointed at Raggok and 'e said sum word then - bang! Raggok got blasted over there. An-an' there was this fire, right? 'e did sumthin' to it tha' made it go woof! An' out'o control an' wild like. We could've 'ad 'im if 'e didn't 'ave magic." Gorbuk continued in earnest.

"Be that as it may, I have no use of excuses!" The Boldog's calm voice lowered into an angry hiss as he drew his blade and swung it, taking Gorbuk's head off his shoulders with one swipe. "I want the cave searched! I want those two rats found! None of you will rest until they are brought to me!"

The Goblins stood staring at him, the body of Gorbuk and his rolling head in fear and terror and didn't move. The Boldog growled at them again, raised his blade and began to advance on them and they scattered.

Alone in the room the Boldog gazed around the carnage in disgust. He nudged the dead body of Leod with his foot and gazed down on him with hatred. "Filth!" he said and kicked the dead man away.

He began to walk out of the chamber but stopped at the door. "….Magic…interesting…"

~End Chapter Three~

All reviews welcome.


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I do not own the works of Tolkien or the works of J.K. Rowling. I am merely borrowing them for this story.

Summary: A Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings crossover that's a bit different to the norm.

AUTHORS NOTE: Let me make this perfectly clear right now. I allow anonymous reviews for my stories because I want to give the benefit of the doubt to readers who are not members of the website and who would like to review. I will accept basically any kind of review without complaint but where I draw the line is in reviews that's only purpose is to complain about the story or insult the author. Constructive criticism I not only accept but encourage, I expect people to find fault in the way I write and I never expect universally positive reviews, in fact I expect more critical reviews than positive ones, but when you find something to criticise about my stories I appreciate it if you tell me in a civil fashion and not use swearwords or insulting language. If, like the anonymous reviewer "F" you don't like what I've written and do not care for the direction of the story then stop reading it, don't continue to read it just to say something bad about it and don't review unless you can keep it civil.

Since I have received some flames from the afore mentioned reviewer I thought I would give a quick questionnaire for this story involving only three questions. 1) Is the story so far believable? 2) are the characters so far believable? 3) are there any major problems with my characterization and if so what?

To the story itself, I have another few regrets to note. I regret finishing the last chapter where I did as I've struggled to write this one. And I regret making Westron the language that's underlined because it's bloody awkward and time consuming to keep underlining it. And I think the end of this chapter is a bit rushed but if I don't finish this chapter now I will be stuck on this for months.

There are a couple of reasons for the delay in updating. 1) I bought Fable III and have been absorbed by that for the last few weeks 2) I got stuck on the conversation in the second section and kind of took the easy way out in the end and 3) I'm back to work and my time to write is more limited.

Code for the following chapter: English Westron hopefully this will be the last chapter this will be needed for.

~ Chapter Four ~

As Harry emerged from the chamber where Leod died, cursing himself for not doing more to save him, he saw the one other survivor of the battle standing in the hall. It was a young man, probably about sixteen or seventeen years old, he was just about six foot but was at that awkward stage where he appears to be all height and no girth. He had no facial hair and blond hair pulled back into a braided-tail behind his head with two smaller braids either side of his face.

The young man was panicked, moving two and fro in the hall.

There were four different tunnels that connected to this one that they could take, all as dark and foreboding as each other and none of them welcoming or offering any kind of salvation. There was a cold breeze coming from two of them, the one to the far right and the one to the far left and the drums and horns of the Goblins echoed and seemed to come from every tunnel.

"What now?!" The young man asked, "Which way do we go?!"

Simple sentences, relatively easy to understand at any rate. "Where did we come from?" Harry asked.

The young man turned to him, his eyes wide and wild in panic. "I don't know! I don't remember!"

The answer and the panic did not give Harry any hope for a successful escape. Time was of the essence however and the Goblins would soon be upon them so someone had to make a decision and, considering his companions state of mind, it clearly had to be him.

"Here." Harry said, passing the Goblin sword he was holding to his companion and raising his wand in the air.

"Bu-but…what…I…" The young man stammered before noticing what Harry was doing. "What-what are you doing?! We have to get out of here!"

"Quiet!" Harry answered, trying to think of a spell that would be useful. A Point Me would only give them the direction of North but that would only help if they knew which way they had to go, a Lumos would give them some light but they would still be lost, but any other spells he could think of didn't seem to be of use.

Drums sounded louder and closer and the young man gave a squeak of fear. Raising the Goblin blade and holding it to his front, shaking in terror, he moved so his back was against Harry. "Hurry up!"

He rubbed his temple with his left hand in frustration. "There's no time for this" he muttered. "Lumos" he said, channelling his magic to make the light dull. It'd have to do for now.

"Wha-wha-what is that?! What did you do?!" Harry's new companion asked, as shocked by the light as he had been by the Goblin's drums.

"Magic" Harry answered.

"Magic? But…" The young mans began before he was interrupted.

"Later" Harry said. With no obviously good choice to pick in regards to the tunnels available he had decided to go with his intuition and just pick one. He grasped his companions arm and pulled him in the direction of the centre-left tunnel. "Keep quiet. Come on."

His companion began to utter something but the sound of running feet and shouting voices from the right stopped him. As soon as he heard those sounded he ran forward into the tunnel Harry had selected, half-dragging Harry with him.

. . . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

. . . . . . . . . . .

For hours they walked, up and down slopes and stairs, rounds corners, through arches and tunnels, all in silence and the dull light until at last they could walk no more and had to rest.

They came to a stop on a stairway, on a kind of landing. There were no tunnels near by, only the stairs that they had come from leading down into the darkness and the stairs that they were going to climb leading up into more darkness. To either side of them were high walls which stretched up and up and up and simply disappeared into the darkness.

Harry slumped against one wall while his companion sat so he was facing down the steps. Despite the desperate need to rest with only the continuous light from Harry wand to keep the gloom at bay neither could relax. Realistically, however, Harry knew that they had no idea how long it would take to escape these caverns and if they didn't get some rest they were likely to collapse and never get out so they would have to get some sleep and hope their luck turned. But more pressingly, if Harry fell asleep the light produced by his wand would go out so he had to make a fire or something.

Harry turned his attention to his companion once more. His companion had calmed down great deal as the hours went on, which was a relief, but he was clearly still on edge.

"Hey" Harry said with a croak and a cough, making his companions jump in surprise and turn to face him. "You alright?" The young man nodded quickly, seemingly surprised to be addressed at all. "I'm Harry."

Still in some state of surprise the young man hesitated to answer and for a good minute and a half he sat in silence before he finally said "Brego"

Silence reigned again. Brego was unsure if anything more was expected of him and was more than a little uncomfortable in Harry's presence while Harry was wracking his brain trying to think of the words he needed.

Eventually Harry broke the silence again when he said, "Fire."

Brego was startled once more. "What?"

"Need a fire." Harry explained as he moved from the wall and began looking through his pockets finding bits and piece of wood and straw, likely fallen in there when Beor's house fell on top of him.

"But…what…how can we make a fire?" Brego asked somewhat scathingly. "We have no wood, no kindling, nothing to make a flame with."

"Any cloth?" Harry continued; unfazed by his companions scathing tone, missing completely the list of problems Brego had produced.

Brego snorted. "I fail to see what good it will do." He said as he tore off a couple of strips from the sleeves of his top and passed them to Harry. He watched as the Harry arranged the cloth into a pile on the floor, along with the bits of wood and straw from his pockets as well as some of his own robes. When Harry knelt back to observe his work Brego spoke up again. "How are you going to light it?"

Harry gazed at Brego expressionlessly for a moment before he reached for his wand and turned back to his companion with a bit of a grin and a twinkle in his eye and said "Magic"

"You said magic before but…what do you mean?" Brego answered.

"Watch" Harry said and brought his left hand to the tip of his wand. "Nox" he said and everything went dark. Brego let out a shocked sound at the sudden darkness but was quickly shushed. Harry aimed his wand just ahead of his knees where he knew the pile of cloth, wood and straw was and said "Incendio" Fire burst from his wand and immediately lit the hall, it caught the pile and set it alight, then he sat back against the wall.

Brego stared at the flame in surprise. The cloth used in the fire was damp, the few bits of wood and straw were equally damp and by all rights there should have been no way for them to burn, but there they were, smouldering in flame in between the two of them.

Brego turned his gaze back to Harry and the wheels in his mind began turning. "You…" he began then paused, "you did that thing to the Goblin's fire…made it uncontrollable I mean." He turned his gaze to Harry with some alarm. "You are a sorcerer!"

Harry gazed at Brego without expression, attempting to work out exactly what he had said. He noticed the alarm in his companion's voice and was wondering what could have caused it. Perhaps, he decided, it was a bad idea to perform magic so openly, since it seemed to have caused the other man such discomfort.

"I have heard tales of sorcerers," Brego continued in a daze. "Ere our people came to dwell in the land between the rivers, travellers from across the great mountains would come through our lands with stories of the sorcerers of the dread realm of Angmar, those stories are told still and none of them pleasant. Dark tales they are, of dark times, they chill your very soul." As Brego spoke the alarm in his voice grew higher. "And, the foul Necromancer! The sorcerer of Dol Guldur! He drove us from out home to settle in these lands, and sent his creatures against us! The source of all our ills!"

Harry didn't like the tone that Brego was using. It was becoming both alarmed and accusing. "Ok, this is getting a bit out of hand." Harry said. Brego wide and wild eyes stared at Harry. The fear directed towards the wizard was clear to see and not just a little bit unnerving. "Just calm down alright. I'm not going to hurt you." He continued as he moved to reassure his companion

In his panicked state Brego misinterpreted Harry's movement. "St-stay back! Stay away!" he scrambled to his feet and fled as far into the darkness as he dared.

"Oh, come on!" Harry said exasperated. "You're just being silly now. I'm not going to hurt you alright. Come back here. Come back." Brego made no attempt to return to the light of ht fire but stood staring at him from the lower steps. Harry rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance and marched back to his spot against the wall where he dropped down to the floor.

After a few moments of silence Brego tentatively made his way back towards the fire. He must have realized that even if Harry was a sorcerer he represented the only possible salvation and, really, where else was he going to go? He was stuck in a cavern deep within the ground somewhere unknown with no sense of direction and no idea of where to go. Eventually Brego settled down in the light of the fire, quite a bit further away from Harry than he originally did.

They sat in silence. Partly it was because Harry was only able to use the simplest of words in Brego's language and was somewhat afraid of saying something that could be misconstrued and could make his companions startled again and partly it was because Brego was intimidated by Harry and wasn't quite sure how to deal with him.

As the silence continued Harry's eyes began to droop and he began to feel sleep taking him. "Why?" At length Brego broke the silence. His voice was quiet and somewhat accusing and it startled Harry, blinking, from his dozing state. "If you are a sorcerer; or some being possessing magic, why did you let everyone die?"

"Sorry?" Harry answered, not quite comprehending what he was being asked. Blinking the sleep away he realized he had said that in English and asked again. "Sorry?"

"Sorry?!" Brego's exclaimed, his voice echoing off the walls. "What do you mean sorry?! If you could have used magic you could have saved them! Why didn't you do more?!"

Harry knew he was being accused of something but for the life of him he couldn't work out what. "Er…I…I don't…"

Before Harry could respond a tremendous noise startled both of them. It was like a roar and a screech put together and it filled the staircase to a deafening degree. Harry grasped his wand and pushed himself to stand up, pointing the wand in front of him and as looked all around for the source of the noise while Brego scrambled for the Goblin sword and darted back and forward along the landing area, terrified.

Three loud booms sounded, one seeming to come from the bottom of the stairs, one from the top and one from above them. A horn rang out in the darkness and spiralled up the staircase. Then followed an oppressive silence, tension thick and full, for how long it lasted, neither was sure, but both were on edge once more.

Harry found himself next to Brego again, his companion's fear self-evident. They stood, side by side, beside the wall on the long staircase for what seemed like hours. Nothing came. Whatever made that ruckus was either a long way off or was waiting in the dark until two were vulnerable.

Still, both were tired and exhausted from the last few days, and Harry was in an even worse state due to his injuries so there was no chance of either of them staying awake indefinitely. Eventually they decided that they would take turns to sleep while the other stood watch until they had both rested for a while and hope for the best.

There was little else they could do.

. . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

. . . . . . . . . .

After a bad night's…day's….whatever's sleep Harry extinguished the still smouldering flame, which seemed to be burning from the stones itself now, and lit his wand with a lumos spell then they began to climb the long stairs once more. For hours they must have climbed into the darkness, the higher they climbed the more the stairs seemed to crumble until they became perilous and unstable. There were several tunnels shooting off from the staircase but they continued on up in the belief that they would eventually reach he surface.

Eventually however the stairs simply stopped and at last they had no choice but to leave the staircase and head back into the maze of tunnels and chambers that made these vast underground halls. At first the tunnels they entered were crudely carved and little more than extended hole but as they progressed deeper and deeper into the tunnels they changed completely. They became carved and ordered and more rectangular, clearly made by a skilled hand, even though they were damaged and crumbling themselves.

After more hours walking they came to a doorway. This doorway was once protected by a great stone gate that was patterned with an intricate scene of some bearded men in some kind of storyline involving a settlement in mountains and battles with serpents and goblins and great hulking beasts. Harry knew this gate once protected the doorway because it lay there on the floor, broken and shattered, piled in the entranceway. It had obviously been broken from his place by a great force and never been repaired, probably because the original owners of these halls had been driven out.

With no other option they had to move on through the doorway but as soon as they stepped beyond the threshold it was clear that the dim light Harry was producing from his wand was not going to be of help. There hall they had entered must have been vast as the darkness was unending in all directions except behind them.

Deciding some more light was needed Harry pushed more magic into his spell and gradually the light increased.

The hall was long but not quite as wide as originally expected. Great hexagonal pillar shot up to the ceiling in pairs, separated by about fourteen meters, some of them had been broken but the remaining ones held up the ceiling with ease. The floor was covered in large slate slabs that were chipped and broken and one either side of the hall there were arches that lead to side chambers or further tunnels. This had clearly been a great hall before it fell into disrepair.

As they began to make their way tentatively through the hall, disconcerted at being out in the open, the floor cracked and crumbled beneath their feet and the noise it made, coupled with the echo of their own steps filled the hall. After walking about half the length of the hall they could stand to be in the open no longer and moved into one of the side chambers.

The chamber they moved into may once have been a tunnel because all it was basically was a doorway and a few feet before a pile of rubble blocked the rest of the room. They spent another uncomfortable night there before they pushed on.

Hunger and thirst was beginning to weaken them and their progress became lethargic. The hall seemed to go on forever, never deviating from its straight path but at last they heard a glorious sound running water.

. . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

. . . . . . . . . .

A stream. It was a stream running through the middle of the tunnels. Fresh water. I offered more than just a source of nourishment, it offered potential freedom. If they followed the course of the stream they might find away out of the darkness.

Harry leant down and dipped his hands into the stream, bringing the water to his face, drinking it with a relish, then brought some more up and splashed it on his face, enjoying the feel of water on his skin for the first time in days.

Brego had wasted no time in jumping into the stream. He had been overjoyed at the sight of it and couldn't contain himself. With a yell he leapt into the water and basked in its glory.

For the two of them this stream was one of the greatest things they could have found after days of wandering in the darkness, with no food and no drink, constantly on edge.

Harry sighed a contented sigh and leaned over the water again but stopped abruptly "What's that?" Something glinting under the waters surface caught his eye. He reached out and grasped it then sat back to look at it. It was a piece of rock, which in itself was not interesting, but within the rock there was a shimmering in the light produced by his wand, shining silver like a star. "Some kind of metal?"

Harry's words drew Brego's attention. "What have you found?" he asked as he pulled himself from the stream and sat next to Harry, dangling his feet in the water.

"What is this?" Harry asked as he passed the rock to his companion.

Brego examined the rock for a while, turning it around in his hands, scratching the metal, even trying to taste it. "I am not sure." He said eventually. "Silver perhaps…or perhaps…no, it can't be…"

"What?" Harry asked turning his inquisitive gaze in Brego's direction.

"It might be…" Brego began still staring at the rock, "…it might by mithril."

"…mithril?"

Brego nodded and passed the rock back to Harry. "It is a kind of metal similar to silver but far more valuable. It is stronger than steel and can be shaped with ease into many forms. I do not know if this is mithril for I have never seen any myself but may possibly be."

Harry stared at the rock for a few moments before putting it into his left pocket. He stood up and brushed down his robes then looked around him for a moment, keeping an ear out for any unusual sounds. There didn't seem to be any immediately but he was beginning to feel uncomfortable. "We need to go." He said to Brego.

"Right this moment?" Brego asked, disappointed to be leaving the stream so soon.

Harry nodded. "We need to go." He repeated.

Brego sighed. "Alright." He stood up and grasped his Goblin sword and came to stand next to Harry.

"Right," Harry said, drawing in the dirt what he planned to do "we'll follow the stream as far as we can and hope it lead us out of this place. It's as good a plan as any, right?"

"You want to follow the stream?" Brego answered with a nod. "It is probably the best option."

"Good…er…" Harry paused, unsure about what he was about to say, he felt very uncomfortable, as if he was expecting something bad to happen. At length he added "be careful."

Brego looked a bit offended but his good mood from finding the stream had not yet left him so he let it slide with an "Of course" and with that they began to march away again.

. . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

. . . . . . . . . .

They must have followed the stream for a good half mile with no changes but then it split off into two different tunnels. There was not preferable choice at that time, and as a result they just had to pick one and go down it. Picking the right side tunnel they continued to follow the stream. The tunnel twisted and turned as the stream did and the further they followed it the more derelict the tunnels around them became.

On and on the tunnel went and for hours more they walked, in silence and dim light, hope dwindling with every step but both clinging on to the final hope that they would be lead to salvation.

But their hopes were shattered when they turned a sharp corner and entered a wide hall that was completely flooded. Clearly this was either an underground lake or any further tunnels had been blocked by cave-ins and the hall had been flooded. It didn't matter either way because no matter what it was the way was blocked.

Disappointed they couldn't bring themselves to backtrack that night and decided to settle for the night where they were.

. . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

. . . . . . . . . .

Brego sat on guard duty as Harry slept. Once more his companion had managed to light a fire from nothing and it burn unceasingly despite the cold, damp conditions. He was disappointed greatly by the day's progress. They had hoped that the stream would lead to freedom but it only lead to a dead end and the next day they would have to march for hours back the way they came to go down the second tunnel. It was not something he was looking forward to.

He was tired and hungry and worn out and fed up. He just wanted to be back in the sun again, to see the hills and valley and plain and forests of his home again, to go the Chieftain's settlement and find his family again. He was greatly worried about them and hoped they were safe.

He stifled a yawn and shook the cobwebs from his mind. Sitting up straighter he leant his sword against the wall he was leaning and rubbed his eyes then turned his gaze to his sleeping companion.

Brego didn't know exactly what to make of Harry. He was clearly a being of some magical power and, though his intentions were not clear, Brego thought he was a well meaning man but even so he didn't feel completely safe around him. The thing that he could no fathom was why Harry had concealed his magic when it could have been of so much use.

How many people could have escaped alive if Harry had used magic against the Goblins in the first place? Brego didn't know. Perhaps he was afraid of being thought a sorcerer, with all the dark tales and rumours about them it was certainly a possibility.

Oh well, there was no use dwelling on it. Harry couldn't talk his language very well so he couldn't get the answer from him and it wouldn't do them any good anyway.

He yawned fully this time and leant back against the wall. He allowed his eyes to close briefly before realizing what he was doing and sat up with a start. Rubbing his eyes he grasped his sword. He had to find a way to wake himself up a bit more, perhaps some cold water would help. He made his way to the water and submerged his head for a few seconds then emerged from the water with a gasp.

Yep, that woke him up a bit.

With a quiet cough he stood up and began to return to the fire and his companion but something stopped him before he could reach it. A splash, another splash and another, all coming from behind him.

Fish? Maybe…no, no it couldn't be. It was too rhythmic to be a fish and…and there were voices! Voices muttering in the dark!

Brego wasted no time in running the rest of his way to his makeshift campsite and went straight to Harry. "Wake up!" He said in panic. "Wake up!"

"Huh…er…wha?" mumbled Harry as he was shaken from his slumber.

"Wake up! Come on! Something's coming! From the water!" Brego continued.

"…in the water?" Harry repeated in a daze as he grasped his wand and sat up, blinking as his eyes adjusted.

"Yes!" Brego said desperately. "They must have seen the fire!"

"…the fire!" Harry said, still half-asleep.

"Yes! The fire! Put it out, quickly!" Brego had started to stamp on the fire in a vain attempt to put it out.

"Oh…right." Coming out of his stupor Harry cancelled the spell fuelling the fire. Before he could do anything else his arm was grasped by Brego and he was dragged behind a pile of rocks and told to be quiet.

The sound of splashing because louder and louder until there was a dull thud or wood hitting stone. A pattering of feet followed as whoever had been in the boats came to the campsite. As they came into view they were clearly Goblins, there were six of them.

"They musta 'eard us comin' and scarpered." One said in harsh voice. "An' it took us so long ta find 'em as well. If only yer hadn't been so loud we could've got em."

"It aint my fault!" a second, with higher pitched voice but no less harsh answered. "Aint nothin' I can do 'bout the water. If yer hadn't taken so long we'd 'ave been 'ere befer they'd even know it."

"Oi!" a third larger Goblin with a deeper but more commanding voice interrupted. "Aint no time ta be fightin'. If we don't find 'em Boldog'll have all're 'eads. They can't of gone far, cause we only just saw 'em put tha' fire out. Spilt up and look for 'em!"

With much grumbling they proceeded to do just that as Brego trembled in fear. Luckily the Goblins started to explore the other side of the bank of the lake/flooded room to where Harry and Brego were hiding so it gave them some time, but the largest Goblin stood where the fire had been, supervising them all.

Brego was not a warrior, he wasn't cut out for this kind of thing. He was a farmer, a fisherman, nothing more. He was terrified. "They are going to find us!" he whispered harshly to Harry. "What are we going to do?"

"Get away." Harry answered without hesitation as he watched the Goblins explore the bank, they would soon be upon them "Fight"

"Bu-but I don't….I don't know how!" Came Brego's panicked reply.

"No choice" Harry answered.

"But...but" Brego began but Harry turned to him and placed his hand over Brego's mouth.

Looking is companion in his eyes and attempting to convey his meaning in his look. Harry said. "Don't worry. We'll get out of this." He said. "Just stay calm and stick close to me. Keep close."

Brego nodded, his eyes still wide and wild in fear but significantly calmed. The Goblins were almost upon them and Harry knew he would have to act quickly. He raised his wand in preparation.

A Goblin's hand rested on the rocks they were hiding behind and soon its head followed. Its gaze turned immediately to Harry and Brego and his eyes lit up in triumph and glee. It opened its mouth to shout in triumph but before he could Harry cried "Stupefy!" and the force of the spell sent the Goblin flying across the room and against a wall.

This obviously alerted the rest of the Goblins to their presence and as soon as Harry had dragged Brego from behind the rocks four of the other Goblins were charging towards them with swords drawn. Before Harry could do anything to stop them an arrow embedded itself in the war behind him. The largest Goblin had drawn and bow and was firing at him.

Harry cast a Reducto in the large Goblins direction but didn't wait to see if he had hit before firing several more Stupefy's against the other Goblins. He hit two but they didn't stop and Harry didn't have enough time to stop them all.

A Goblin was literally inches away from him as he had finished firing one spell and he could do nothing to stop it, his death was staring at him but before the killing blow could be struck the Goblin fell, slashed through his side.

Sparing a glace at Brego he found his companion froze as if he were surprised by his own actions but Harry had no time to dwell on this as there were still three Goblin's left.

The Goblins had realized the situation they were in. Though they outnumbered their foes they could not compete with Magic and began to withdraw. Harry was content to let them go and took the chance to move towards the tunnel that lead back to the fork in the stream. He fully planned to collapse the tunnel once he had gone through.

A loud, dull thud echoes in the hall. It sounded eerily like something Harry had heard before. He stopped in his attempt to flee, Brego stopping with him, and glanced back over his shoulder. The Goblin's wooden ships and been knocked aside and smashed upon the stones, the Goblins themselves were strew over the floor, motionless and standing in their place was a giant, well not quite a giant.

The creature stood over twelve feet, its skin was grey and it was covered in bumps. It had a small head in comparison to the rest of its body and it clasped a large stone club in its three fingered hand.

Now that Harry could see it properly it was clearly a troll. What spells worked on a troll? Before Harry could think about it properly the Troll roared and charged towards him and Brego

Harry fired a Reducto at the Troll and it hit the creatures left shoulder and rocked it but it continued to charge. Another Reducto hit the Troll's chest but it similarly didn't slow the creature down. Harry switched his tactics then and shot a Diffindo at it but even the hard cut through the Troll's head didn't stop it, it just roared in angry again and lifted its club.

With a wide arch the club swung down and hit the great thud and forced Harry and Brego to separate. The Troll was surprisingly fast in moving again as it thrust its hand forward to grasp Harry but only managed to knock him against a wall with some force.

Harry was winded and immobile. The Troll advanced with the intent of finishing him off but before he reached the stricken wizard it screamed in pain. Brego had acted without thinking and leap on the Troll's leg, embedded the sword into its foot, digging it in as hard as he could.

The Troll kicked Brego away with a cry of anger and turned its attention to the blond haired man. Brego was knocked out, he had hit a wall with a terrible thud and was out for the count. The Troll grasped him with his hand and lifted him of the floor, squeezing him tightly and roaring in his face before throwing him once more against a wall.

Regaining his wits Harry saw the Troll standing triumphant over the unconscious Brego and immediately moved to distract the Troll. He fired three Reducto's a the beast's back, causing it to scream in pain and anger again. Its thudding feet pounded towards him but before the Troll fell upon him he twisted on the spot and vanished.

The Troll stood there, confused about where his prey had gone. It began lifting rocks and hurling them over its shoulder in an attempt to find his prey but his search was fruitless, nevertheless it continued with a compulsive dedication.

Harry meanwhile had moved to check on Brego. Brego was hurt, possibly badly if the blood pooling around his head was anything to go by. It would probably not be the best of ideas to move him right not but what were the choices? Move Brego and risk exacerbating his wounds or stick around and wait for the Troll to get bored and come back to finish the job.

Sighing despairingly, Harry realized he had no choice and cast a Mobilicorpus on Brego and left the chamber, collapsing the tunnel entrance behind him.

~End Chapter Four~

All reviews welcome. No flames.


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I do not own the works of Tolkien or the works of J.K. Rowling. I am merely borrowing them for this story.

Summary: A Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings crossover that's a bit different to the norm.

AUTHORS NOTE: In my latest revelation I have come to the conclusion that although setting this story in a period of Middle Earth history which is explored in only sparing terms by J.R.R. Tolkien has given me a great deal of freedom to create an almost totally new story it has handicapped me in another way, in that when I find myself stuck and struggling to progress the story I have very little to fall back on to give me ideas on the specific story in question. This has given me some trouble in getting this story rolling once more but hopefully this will only be a passing problem.

As an additional note, I changed the ending of the fourth chapter because as it was it made it difficult for me to push on in this chapter.

Code for the following chapter: English Westron this will be the last chapter this will be needed for due to the Dues-ex-machina added, a cheap way out but easier for the flow of the story.

~ Chapter Five ~

Harry watched as the rubble of the destroyed ceiling tumbled to the floor below and settled before the entrance to the flooded chamber. Until the dust had settled and the path was completely blocked he did not move, did not take his eyes away from the scene.

The noise was deafening in the confined space of the tunnel and the echoes of the rock and stone smashing onto the floor bounced repeatedly from wall to wall and floor to ceiling, undoubtedly reaching to even the darkest corners of the deep caves and tunnels.

Once the dust settled and the cacophony died down Harry at last closed his eyes, brought his hands to his face and breathed a deep, shaky breath. He turned, with dread settling in his heart, afraid of what he would find behind him. It was not fear for his own life or fear for his safety but a fear of his own uselessness.

"Ok Harry," he said to himself, "pull yourself together. This isn't the time to start panicking. Just…just turn round, you have to do it sometime so get it over with."

He drew in a deep breath once more and held it then turned and almost choked as he laid eyes on his companion.

Brego lay, unmoving, pale faced and breathing shallow, his eyes closed and body lifeless while around his head pooled a puddle of blood.

"Oh God!" Harry breathed, then dashed forward to hover over his fallen travelling companion. "Oh God! What do I do?! Think Harry, think! Um…? What…? What should I…?"

He moved back and screwed his eyes shut, drawing another long shuddering breath before hitting his forehead with his palms. "Calm down you fool! You're not doing anyone any good by losing it. Calm down!"

He fell silent once more and opened his eyes, moving his left hand to cover his mouth as he thought. "…check to see how bad the cut is…yeah, that's probably the right thing to do…" yet still he hesitated. "…I'll have to get a cloth or something…"

Looking around briefly he contemplated tearing a strip of cloth off of his clothes again but looking down he saw they were rather threadbare from the last few day's adventures so it probably wasn't a good idea. He turned his gaze to Brego and contemplated taking a strip off of his clothes but decided against it. Then a thought struck him, he was a Wizard. In his panic he had forgotten all about that, a mere oversight but one that made him feel rather foolish.

Transfiguring a nearby rock into a rag he wet it in the stream then moved on to kneel next to Brego. Carefully running the rag over his companion's head he searched for the wound, hoping it wasn't going to be deep. Minutes passed by in silence, twice he had to clean the rag before he could continue cleaning Brego's cranium, but at last the worst of the blood was gone and the wound was visible.

Harry sat back with a hiss at the sight of it. There were several cuts around the crown of Brego's head, most of them shallow but one that passed down towards his left ear looked deep and dangerous. This was pretty bad, he had no idea how to deal with such a serious looking injury, at least not properly, and pretty much the only thing he could do would be to bandage it up and hope that it didn't get any worse before he managed to get out of these caverns and find a healer.

Huffing in annoyance at his own impotency he proceeded to do just that by transfiguring anther rock into a bandage and wrapping it around Brego's head before he sat back.

He could not tarry here. The longer he stayed the worse Brego's condition was likely to become, and of course there were the Goblins to worry about. Others would come to discover what had befallen their comrades. At best they could reach the conclusion that the Troll alone had decimated the Goblins in the flooded chamber but there was no guarantee of this. And then there was the Troll. His disappearing act may have distracted it for a while but eventually it was going to realise it had been fooled and would attempt to find them once more.

In short, there were many reasons to keep moving and escape as quickly as possible and few reasons to stay.

With this revelation, which was hardly a revelation at all, Harry raised himself from the floor with a groan and stretched before turning his gaze once more to Brego. "…I'll get you out of here," he said softly to himself more than his companion, "find someone who can help you, it'll be alright…"

And with that he cast his Mobilicorpus once more and headed off into the darkness.

. . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

. . . . . . . . .

With great caution Harry moved as fast as he dared, retracing his steps back to the fork in the road, so to speak. He encountered nothing on the journey but there was a quiet whisper which promised an increase of activity from something or someone in the tunnels, which all the more increased his desire to find a way out of what he was fast coming to think of as his own personal hell.

Upon reaching the fork he spared only a moment to check on Brego's condition, which appeared unchanged to his untrained eye, before turning into the second tunnel and continuing on his way.

After an hour or so the tunnel began to enlarge in both height and width. Like many of the tunnels he had passed before they had once been carved with great skill and displayed decorations only the most skilled of masons could have created with but they too lay in disrepair, broken and shattered.

A silver light shone in the distance, glimmering in the dark like stars. Hope filled Harry's heart. At last he must have found the exit to these dark, dreary and death-filled caverns. He all but ran towards the source of the light, all fear of Goblins and Trolls gone from his mind at the hope that he had at last found salvation.

Yet as he stepped into the light his hopes were dashed.

He stood not in the light of stars in the open country but in a large cylindrical hall which stretched up as far as his eyes could see and similarly fell down into the abyss, or so it seemed. The slivery light emanated from the walls where thousands, possibly millions, of precious stones glimmered and reflected, quite gallingly, the light produced by Harry's own wand.

Harry slumped against as wall in despair, allowing the sound of rushing water to wash over him. It was almost more than flesh and blood could stand. There seemed to be no end to these tunnels, no escape, no hope of seeing the light outside them. Yet even as he let these dark feelings overcome him he knew he would have to go on.

The water of the stream continued to flow besides him, cascading into a waterfall which fell down and seemingly vanished where the light faded.

To his right there were the remnants of a stair case that spiralled upwards yet they could no longer be reached as the bridge which led a path to them over the stream had collapsed. Had Harry not been weak from hunger and exhaustion he may have tried to levitate himself and his companion over the stream but he did not feel himself capable of this at the time.

This left the stairs to his left which spiralled down into the dark. There seemed to be a groove in the stairs, smoothed out as if something heavy had been dragged across it repeatedly over a many years. They were dangerous to tread on, not doubt extremely slippery yet they were the only path forward.

Steeling himself once more he set off on his journey, treading carefully with each step. Down, down into the dark. Endlessly, it seemed, time passed. Weariness and tiredness took a stronger hold of him with every passing minute until at last he could no longer resist.

His eyes closed, his head dropped and he fell forward, down the winding stair. The pain of this action, naturally, brought him back to his senses.

Brego lay beside him in a heap, unmoving save for shallow breaths, and bar a few bumps and bruises Harry himself seemed no worse for the fall. They had fallen down the remaining stairs before Harry was aware of what was happening and now found themselves in a large hall filled with mounds of gold and silver and jewels and even shields and swords made by an expert smith. It was…like every treasure trove a child dreams of discovering.

Harry glanced about the room, awed at the sheer amount of treasure piled in one place. He sat up, yawned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, the turned his tired gaze left and then right.

Two blood-red eyes bored into him and he knew no more.

. . . . . . . . . . .

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

. . . . . . . . . . .

"Harry?"

Someone was calling him. It was distant, like an echo in an empty room.

"Harry?"

The voice became clearer and seemed as if it was familiar, someone he knew, or had known, quite intimately, someone he trusted…

"You cannot rest there forever Harry, time is not on your side."

Harry moaned softly to himself and turned over. With a colossal effort he forced his eyes to open then lay blinking in a world of endless light – or so it seemed. Blindingly the light shone with a kind of whiteness to it. He raised an arm to shield his eyes yet it did nothing to block the light.

A chuckle caught his attention. "Perhaps it is a little too bright in here. Let me see if I can do something about that." After a moments or two of rustling cloth, clacking of some kind of stones and some mumbling whoever it was who shared this space, wherever that was, with him gave an "Ah ha!" of triumph and a loud CLICK reverberated.

The light was dragged away, like water being washed down a drain, drawn to one spot and dampening the vibrancy of the area until only a gentle glow was left. Another CLICK signalled the end of the task.

Harry could see he was lying on a sofa in the living room of a typically Muggle house. A TV in the corner, a fireplace with pictures and knickknacks resting above, a clock on the wall and a coffee table, nothing extraordinary about it at all.

"There," said the voice of whoever shared this room with him, "I think that's much better, don't you?"

Harry turned his head in the direction the voice had come from and froze.

"Dumbledore?!"

The old wizard sat in a large armchair, looking as out of place as you would expect of someone wearing purple and yellow striped robes in a Muggle's living room.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, that's an interesting question," Dumbledore responded. "And it is more complex than you might first imagine. Can you first tell me where we are?"

Harry looked around the room and attempted to put the pieces together. The room was impeccable, not a single hair or bit of dust to be seen, above the fireplace were numerous photographs of a large child or that same child flanked by a tall thin woman and a rather large man.

"This is the Dursley's," Harry began before turning to face the elder wizard, "but why, how did I get here?"

Dumbledore lowered his head a glanced at Harry over his spectacles "Are you certain?"

Harry nodded. "I know every inch of this place, I grew up here, I'd know it anywhere."

"And that is the point, my boy," Dumbledore answered as he stood and walked to the fireplace. "This place is familiar to you, it is intimate to you but I am afraid that is it not the place you believe it to be."

"What?"

"Indeed. Number 4 Privet Drive does not exist in this time and place. What you see is merely a projection of a memory." Dumbledore continued as he picked up some ornament and examined it.

Harry lay in disbelief for a moment. "That can't be right." He said at length. "Why would I be stuck in a memory?"

Dumbledore replaced the ornament on the fireplace and turned back to face Harry. "Someone or something is assaulting your mind. Though you perhaps did not show the greatest aptitude for occlumency, the basics you have learnt embedded themselves in your subconscious. When the initial assault began, your consciousness fled to the deeper parts of your mind and raised a barrier to protect it."

"But I never liked this place!" Harry objected, sitting up. "Living with the Dursley's was horrible! They treated me like a slave half the time, locked me under the stairs! Why would any part of me choose this place for safety?"

"This building, this room, is merely one place where you never felt threatened by an outside source. It is one place where you feel at ease, or, rather, comfortable enough that you feel no fear. Though perhaps your ill feelings towards this place is why I am here." Dumbledore turned towards the window and began walking towards it. "I am sure that you must have realized that I am not really here either, I am dead after all."

"Well...maybe…"Harry conceded. "I was entertaining the idea that I was in some dream or nightmare or something"

"If only that were the case." Dumbledore said, a wistful look upon his face. "I'm sure we could both do with far less guilt on our consciences. Alas, I'm afraid you shall have to deal with your regrets some other time, we have more pressing matters to deal with." He turned away from the window and sat opposite Harry. "Whatever is assaulting you mind has considerable power and a skill in the arts of mental magic that would rival even the strongest of legilimancers or occlumancers. You must find some way to break its hold upon you before it breaches the walls of this sanctum."

"But how can I do that?" Harry asked.

"Whatever form this place may take, whomever you may summon to share this area with you, it is still your mind Harry," Dumbledore answered "and only you can answer that question."

"But I don't even know what I have to do!" Harry exclaimed, rising out of his seat for the first time since he woke. "Snape never taught me anything!"

"Didn't he?" Dumbledore said, somehow with a mix of both surprise and insight. "During your lessons was there not one time when you managed to expel him from your mind?"

Harry gave a short, derisive laugh and turned to the fire place. "Only once, and that was with a protego. I doubt that'd work here."

"Why not?" came the reply.

"Because this isn't real! This whole place is just some image conjured by my mind, nothing here is real!" Harry said with a shake of his head.

"That is not a reason not to try it." Dumbledore said, sitting calmly back in his chair. "What is real here is purely a matter of belief. It is your mind Harry, anything that happens here is as real or as unreal as you choose to make it."

Harry turned back to Dumbledore, his mind racing and stumbling over his words "But...but what if it does nothing? Or what if it makes it worse? What if…"

"Harry!" Dumbledore interrupted and caught Harry's eyes with his own, putting an end to Harry's train of thought. "There are a million 'what ifs'. Doubt will only cripple your mind. You have good instincts, and good judgement, follow them and do not doubt them."

"But what about Sirius? Or Cedric? I followed my instincts then and they got killed for it!" he objected.

"And that is regrettable, greatly so," Dumbledore answered. "But if you doubt yourself and your judgement then you will open you mind to further invasion and all hope will be lost."

"But how can I trust myself if all that ever happens when I do is people die?"

"How can you refuse to trust yourself if you have any hope of returning to the world of the living?" Dumbledore countered. "Certainly, use your mind. Do not trust your gut blindly but have confidence in yourself and you shall find a way."

Silence reigned as Harry dwelt on things. Eventually he spoke. "I…I don't know if I can trust myself anymore. I…too many things went wrong, too many people got hurt because I was wrong…I…I'm afraid, afraid I'd make the same mistake again and hurt more people."

"I can offer you few words of comfort Harry." Sorrow and regret lined those words. "We have both made mistakes but you must never forget them. Remember them and try to learn from them. Keep the memory of those whom you failed in you heart and endeavour to do better in their honour. That is what I did, or, at least, what I attempted to do. Then perhaps when the day comes when you meet them in the afterlife they will forgive you."

"…forgive me…I don't think they ever will…"

"People can surprise you Harry," Dumbledore gave a wistful smile. "Perhaps one day we will both find the absolution we seek. But that will have to be for another time." Dumbledore stood up. "Now, are you ready to give that Protego a try?"

Harry gulped and steeled his resolved. "As I'll ever be." He moved to the centre of the room and lifted his wand, or the mental personification of his wand rather, and prepared to cast the spell.

"I'm proud of you Harry," Dumbledore spoke. "No matter what happens, I am proud of you."

"Professor…" Harry began, embarrassed and feeling unworthy of the praise, but before he could go further the walls around him began to shake and crumble.

"Time has run out! Cast the spell Harry! Quickly! Before all is lost!" Dumbledore cried out. Harry hesitated, desperately he wanted his old mentor to know his mind but Dumbledore prevented it. "Go!" He insisted.

With regret about leaving his piece unsaid Harry turned from his mentor to look towards the shattering window. "_Protego_!" he cried and the world swirled around him.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Strange visions flashed through Harry's mind or a dungeon of some kind, filled with all manor of lizards, dragons, trolls, goblins, demons, and many other unnameable creatures…of a great white city falling in flame and chaos…of a mountain tumbling to the ground, broken to ruin by the back of some mighty creature…of small men fleeing before him in terror…

Harry awoke with a start to find himself still in the treasure room with Brego still laying to his right. It was eerily silent, as if the room was empty save for Harry and his companion.

Yet Harry knew there had to be something here. Something with blood-red eyes, something that had some mastery of mind-magic, something that was a danger to him.

Whatever words he had spoken with the Dumbledore in his mind, whatever it was, were not important now and could be dwelt on later. Right now the important thing was to find a way out, and hopefully to do so without expending more effort and blood in battle with god knew what.

Moving as silently as he could he dragged the still unconscious Brego towards a pile of gold, intending to hide behind it until he could get his bearings.

The clinking and tingling or metals falling against each other froze him in his tracks.

"So the little Northman stirs" a voice hissed in the darkness. It was cold, unfeeling and seemed to regard him with come curiosity. "How strange it is that he alone in all these years should prove capable of breaking my hold. Tell me, little Northman, what trickery have you wrought that would grant you freedom?"

Harry knew that was the local tongue, some of the words were familiar to him, what shocked him more was that he understood everything. Little more than a day ago he could only understand and speak in short sentences yet suddenly it appeared he was fluent in it.

"Silent you stay. Is it that you believe you can conceal yourself from my gaze? Foolish little Northman!" The voice hissed once more.

Harry looked around to try to find the source of the voice but all he could see were the piles of treasure. He pulled Brego behind him and leant him against a pile of gold. Then he stood protectively in front of him and raised his wand, willing light into it, illuminating the room, yet still he could see nothing.

"What interesting skills you have, little Northman, to create such light from nothing. What other secrets do you hide, I wonder." Something moved to Harry's right and he jumped, pointed his wand in that direction with a curse on his lips only to see nothing but the scattering of gold coins on the floor.

"Who are you?" He asked "What do you want?"

A dark laugh reverberated around the room. "Who am I he asks?! What do I want he cries?! When it is he who has wondered so deep into my home without welcome! You who have trespassed in my halls dare demand answers from me?!"

"Look! I'm tired. I'm hungry. My friend needs medical care. We've been wondering about in these caves for who knows how many days now. I am in no mood for games. Tell me who you are and what you want with us or let me be!" Harry answered into the expanse.

A laugh once more answered him. "No time for games! Ha! Ha! Indeed little Northman? This is not the time for games? You, who have wandered in my halls, you who have trespassed in my home and who has disturbed my resting place, and now threaten me! Do you not know who you dare to challenge?"

"Obviously I don't or I wouldn't have asked!" Harry huffed with annoyance. "Stop hiding in the shadows and show yourself!"

"Ignorance!" the voice thundered. "Have I mistaken ignorance for courage?! What a foolish little man you must be to have walked in the hall unaware of the one who rules it!"

"I've had more pressing matters to deal with." Harry answered derisively. "What with Goblins and Trolls trying to kills me."

"Goblins!? Trolls!?" the voice scoffed. "Clearly you dwell in ignorance if you count them the greatest danger you face in there halls. Let me educate you further, little Northman, as to whose rest you have disturbed."

All at once in a great cacophony a mound of gold crashed to the floor and knocked Harry from his feet. Desperately he sought to gain a foothold and remain near Brego but it was a loosing battle and he was half buried under a pile of gold. He sat up, gripping his wand tightly but froze the second he saw what had emerged from beneath the pile of gold.

A long serpent like Dragon, at least fifty foot tall and a hundred foot long, a pale white colour with only two legs, its forelegs, resting its large claws on a large stone table on which it rested its head, which was about the size of a small bus full of large and sharp teeth, crowned with a mane of white horns gazed at him through half-lidded blood-red eyes.

"A dragon?" Harry gasped in surprise before he shrugged and muttered under his breath. "Sure! Why not? Why don't we just throw in a couple of Dementors and we'll have a complete set!"

"A dragon you say?" The dragon spoke, sounding insulted. "I am not a simple dragon! I am Scatha! The Worm of Dread! I have ruled these halls for centuries! My domain sweeps the land from here to the great river! I have slain countless heroes who sought to my head or sought my treasure! None have withstood my fury!"

"Full of yourself too."

"**Insolence!**" Scatha thundered. "Keep your tongue silent little Northman! You live still only because you interest me. I would know of the magics you possess. If you tell me then I may yet permit you to continue you pathetic existence."

"Why do you want to know anyway? It's not like you could use it yourself." Harry responded.

"It interests me. That is all the reason I need."

"And if I tell you," Harry continued cautiously. "You will let me and my friend leave."

"Fool! You dare dictate to me?!" The dragon exclaimed.

"I am not dictating. I am bargaining. There's a difference!" Harry answered

Scatha raised himself up on his forelegs and snarled down at Harry. "You are in no position to do so either way. I am the lord of these halls and you are answerable to me! You live or die by my will! You will tell me what I wish to know."

Harry did not quail before the Dragon's ire, though there was a creeping fear in the back of his mind, instead he stood up as tall as his small frame would permit him and stared straight into the Dragon's eye. "I will not," He said. "Unless you promise me that my friend and I will leave here safely."

The dragon roared in anger and frustration. "Enough!" he cried. "I shall waste no more time on you, foolish Northman. I shall grant you no promise of safety and you shall not see the light of day again. Know that for your impertinence you have doomed yourself!"

"Wait!" Harry cried but it was too late. Scatha leapt forwards and knocked Harry to the floor, knocking his wand from his hand. Harry turned and scrambled away, desperately seeking his wands amongst the rubble.

"You cannot run little Northman!" Scatha cried as he spun on the spot he landed and leapt after Harry once more.

Harry managed to dodge the Dragon's leaping form but was caught by its thrashing tail and sent careening into a pile of treasure. He groaned at the impact as stars danced in his vision. He vision cleared just as the Dragon pounced once more and pinned him with a massive claw.

Scatha crushed Harry beneath his claw and snarled. "Now do you see the price of your arrogance? Had you answered me I should have made your death quick, but you chose defiance and for that I shall ensure you that your death shall be agony untold."

Harry choked and gasped for air. His gaze swept left and right, up and down for anything that could help him escape. His hands swept amongst the treasure trying to grasp something to use as a weapon, finding only coins and goblets. His hand touched around a handle of some kind.

A strange sound came seemingly directly into his brain. It seemed to be a song. A deeply sorrowful song of despair, the song of something that had suffered long and rarely known happiness. He felt oddly drawn to it. He clasped his hand around the handle and the song changed. It seemed to rejoice, to be hopeful or better things to come, that light would break through the darkness.

Disregarding that for the time being Harry, in his desperation, dragged the weapon from the mound and swung it as hard as he could towards the dragon's head.

A scream of pain echoed throughout the hall. Scatha withdrew, writhing in agony, burying his head between his forelegs.

Harry sat up gasping for breath and looked at the weapon that saved his life. It was a broadsword made of some black metal with golden runes down the blade and a moulded black handle with gold leaf adorning it.

Silently thanking it for simply being there he stood up and stumbled towards Brego. Muttering the summoning charm, he called his wand to him and lifted Brego off the ground, wrapping Brego's arm about his shoulders to support him then sought the way out.

Scatha's wild leaps had disturbed much of the treasure and cleared the room. There were now several tunnels which could be seen leading out. Cold, fresh air blew from three of them so chances were high that they led the way out.

Before Harry could chose one however Scatha roared once more.

The Dragon had recovered from the initial wounding and, though blood was streaming down the left side of his face, had flown into an uncontrollable rage. His blood red eyes spotted Harry and Brego and he let out a cry of anger. "Northman!" he cried and leap towards them.

In a moment's panic Harry found his go mind blank as he tried to think of any spell at all that could be helpful. The dragon was almost upon him. Unbidden his wand raised and a spell forced itself from his lips, "Sectumsempra!"

Scatha screamed in agony once more and thrashed on the floor. Taking advantage of the situation Harry headed towards the tunnels. He collapsed two with a reductor curse before passing into the third and collapsing it behind him.

He continued on, as fast as he could, and finally, after what felt like an eternity, he stepped out into the moonlight. Before him lay a wide open countryside of hills, glens and valleys covered in a layer of snow.

Harry paused for a moment and took a deep breath, relishing the fresh night air ad glad to put the dark caves behind him. But he had no time to enjoy this new free or to take in the view, his thoughts were only on getting as away as possible before morning.

~ End Chapter Five ~

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	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: I do not own the works of Tolkien or the works of J.K. Rowling. I am merely borrowing them for this story.

Summary: A Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings crossover that's a bit different to the norm.

AUTHORS NOTE: The first order of business is to announce that I am looking for a BETA reader to aide me in this undertaking. If you are interested send me a PM and we will discuss the matter.

Those of you familiar with the works of Tolkien beyond the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit will now no doubt recognize that the story I am attempting to tell is that of Scatha and Fram, the Long Worm and the ancestor of the Kings of Rohan, and that it is set about 1,000 years before the events of the Lord of the Rings. For those not aware of what Tolkien himself wrote of that story I shall expand on that at the end of the story arc.

I have taken a risk with this story. It is still Middle-Earth, it is still canonical Tolkien legendarium but it is not a famous Tolkien story and there will be few recognizable Tolkien characters involved. For those people looking for interaction between Harry and the likes of Aragorn, Frodo, Bilbo and the Fellowship this will not be for them because it'll be a long time before I get to the War of the Ring, if I get there at all.

I put off mentioning this until I introduced the Long Worm because I was worried that if people knew that I didn't plan to use any very famous Tolkien characters in a major role in this particular story arc they wouldn't even spare it a second glance.

I hope that now this information is clear that doesn't put anyone off reading future chapters.

Additionally, I have made minor edits to past chapters, none of which changed the overall story. I have, however, readdressed my draft and made some changes for the story from this chapter forward as I believe they will improve it. The Authors Notes remained unaltered.

~ Chapter Six ~

The darkness that filled the caverns of the Grey Mountains echoed with a horrendous din. The great dragon Scatha, the Worm of Dread, was crying out in pain and fury, cursing and swearing revenge.

"Northman!" He roared, shaking the mountain to its foundations. "You shall not escape my wrath! I shall find you and have my vengeance!"

The dragon's tail swished and with a mighty crack struck the cavern wall. The rocks cracked and fragmented before it. The tunnels which once lead to the outside world remained closed, blocked by rocks which had tumbled down in the last battle. Scatha would have cleared them easily yet he was blinded by his fury and the pain of his wounds and did not.

He roared once more and struck the cavern wall again. Recoiling after the hit he lashed out immediately and repeated the action. Again and again and again, in blind rage did Scatha strike the cavern wall, crying out with every blow as the wall was smote before his fury, tumbling into debris before him.

At last, after what seemed like an age, the dragon stopped and retreated to his gold. Piling it up into a bed he lay down and rested his head. A scowl on his enormous face, he turned his head to one side, then the other, and took a deep breath through its large nostrils before curling it towards a wall.

"Speak quickly. You will receive no curtsey in my halls this day." He said suddenly "What brings you to my lair Goblin?"

From down the winding stair came the Boldog, escorted by his mighty guard, fifteen goblins, armed and armoured, six others carrying him on his chair.

"I seek two rats, Lord Scatha." The Boldog answered. "They fled my home and I seek to capture them ere they escape these halls. Their trail led me here."

"You are late then, Goblin, for they have already fled." Scatha answered with a seeming lack of interest.

Silence followed.

The Boldog rested his elbow on the arm of his chair and cupped his chin in his hand, then sat in thought. At last he spoke. "How is it, O great and powerful Dread-Worm; that these filth managed to evade your grasp?"

Scatha half turned his head and gazed toward the Goblin with a half-lidded eye. "Evade my grasp?" He said, sounding insulted at the accusation. "They have not escaped me. It is merely a…reprieve. I know their scent, I know their skills, and I know their dwelling. They may think they have escaped but, in time, they shall understand their folly"

"Yet even so," The Boldog replied, "You have been unable to prevent their flight. Have you fallen so far to idleness that you cannot detain farmers?"

"You forget yourself Goblin!" Scatha growled lowly. "You live in these halls by my leave and my leave alone. I am master here, not you, and you would do well to remember that."

The Boldog bit his tongue and bowed his head. "As you say Lord…"

Scatha appraised the Goblin through his half-lidded eye before snorting and leaning his head to one side. "There is, however, truth in your words. In my idleness I became complacent and underestimated the Northman but I know now what danger he poses to me. I shall not make the same mistake twice."

The dragon raised himself and turned his gaze upwards, where light streamed in as it passed through an ancient tunnel that had once been a skylight to the great chamber.

"The Northman has wounded me." Scatha said at length. "And this shall take time to heal. But my vengeance will come and it will be swift. The Northmen shall pay! Their people, their realm shall make a fitting tribute for the loss of my eye."

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"That old fool!" The Boldog grumbled as he was carried back into the darkness. "He believes himself invincible! He believes himself infallible! Ha! Wounded by Northman filth and he thinks he can dictate to me!"

The sound of the stomping feet of his entourage, the clattering or arms and armour echoed as they climbed the winding stair.

"Too long has that lizard reigned. He is old and arrogant. Soon, he will fall and in his place I shall rise and make this land a realm so great, so dark, that it will rival Angmar itself! All shall fear me and none shall oppose me!"

The Boldog sat back in his chair, grasped some unmentionable piece of meat and took a large bite out of it. Chewing it violently, grinding the bones within it to meal before swallowing it. Then he rested his head on his hand once more.

"Still, wounded though he is, the Worm is a foe beyond me, and ere he falls it is true that I remain here only by his whim." He sniffed dismissively, paused to spit out some bone that was stuck in his teeth, and then sat in contemplation. "Perhaps…this Northman was the one the black rider warned of…no matter. I shall let this situation resolve itself. The dragon will chase after the Northman in time and in the meanwhile I shall muster my people. The time of my ascension is at hand."

Little did the Boldog know that deep down in the great hall the Dread-Worm lay tending to his wounds and listening to the voices that whispered in the darkness. He heard the Boldog's words and spared a wicked grin before laying his head down to rest.

"I know your treachery well Goblin." He said to himself. "Be thankful that there are more pressing matters on my mind but worry not, I have not forgotten you."

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The pale autumn sun glared across the landscape and shimmered as it bounced off the freshly fallen snow and newly settled ice. The chill wind blew rough across the glens and through the valleys, over the hills and down the streams. Trees in isolated clumps scattered across the countryside swayed and whispered in the breeze while the Greylin River thundered southward to join the Langwell where the Great River formed.

It was a cold day, a silent day, where few birds flew and few beasts walked abroad. It was a silence shattered only by the sound of hoof beats.

A company of 20 riders, mounted on stout horses, cantered across the land. They were armed with swords and spears and shields, they wore helmets adorned with the image of horses. The banner they flew was a white horse on a green background with two silver streaks joined in a "V" shape at the bottom. It fluttered in the breeze.

The riders followed the course of the river upstream. There, in the distance, smoke rose to the sky and dispersed in the crosswinds high above. Approaching the scene the carnage revealed itself.

Carts were strewn about the roadside, broken and shattered, with many personal belongings scattered around the area. The rubble of houses piled on the side of the road, blackened by fire. Bodies of the slain littered the streets.

The riders stopped by the building that used to be the inn, now only a burnt out husk, a shell. There they dismounted and surveyed the destruction of the small settlement.

"The reports were true." Spoke one man eventually. "There can be no more doubt."

"So it would seem" answered another. "But what could have caused this? There has been no word of any invasion, of any attack recently."

"It is not unusual for news of attacks on our borders to be slow in coming. Our people are spread about the land and rarely have we had need to muster together. There may be more settlements like this one." The leader spoke. He was clearly the leader for his armour was of a more elaborate design, his helmet was adorned with gold and his horse was the largest and strongest of those present. "We live in constant danger, surrounded on all sides by lands infested with the foulest of creatures, yet I fear too many of us have fallen complacent."

The men around murmured in agreement.

"Which of our enemies has caused this is unclear," the leader continued. "Though the fire has destroyed much there will still be some sign remaining which will tell us what has been the cause of this." He removed his helmet to reveal a head of golden hair, long and braided and a bearded face, though well groomed. He issued orders to his men to spread out and search the ruins of the settlement for any trace of the culprits of the attack. The men did as ordered, leaving the golden headed leader alone with one man. This man was tall and dark haired, relatively young and strongly built.

"Let us hope it is not the Long Worm who has stirred." Spoke the dark-haired man as he poked about in the rubble. "I doubt any of us ready to face that threat."

The leader spared him a quick glance "Doubt as you wish Baldor, but should the Worm come from his hole he would not find us unready."

"Yet our people are so spread out. Should the Worm come swiftly we would surely suffer great losses. We cannot concentrate our peoples with speed great enough to prevent this." Baldor answered.

"We are not so defenceless as you might think." The leader responded. "With this attack my father can no longer resist me. I shall have my way and we shall muster our strength and rid ourselves of all enemies."

"I doubt that Lord Frumgar will be quite as open to your plans as you believe. He is not the man he once was, his mind has slowed and his arm weakened, and he appears content to keep things unchanged." Baldor said. "I know you well Fram, and do not doubt your intentions, but Frumgar is chief and as long as he lives we owe him fealty."

"He will have no choice!" Fram said vehemently. "Times are changing and he refuses to change with them. If he will not take the action needed to protect our lands and our people then I will!"

Baldor appraised Fram with a thoughtful look. "Perhaps," he began, "but Frumgar still commands the loyalty of the Eotheod, his power and influence amongst the people is still strong. You cannot challenge that."

Fram scoffed. "I can challenge it and I will." He said dismissively. "The people may not thank me for it but one day they will realize that it was for the best."

"Forcing change will not be well received." Baldor warned.

"Do you not see?!" Fram exclaimed as he spread his arms and gestured to the destroyed settlement. "My friend, this is the very chance I have been waiting these last ten winters for. When the people know of this attack they will cry out for change. I will not have to force them to do anything. My father will either have to take action or step aside."

"And what if he takes action but not the one you wish?" Baldor spoke.

Fram paused for thought before eventually answering "That will be of no consequence. Father is old and frail; his is unable to command our host in his dotage. The need to protect our lands is pressing and becoming greater with every passing day. No matter what course father chooses to take the Eotheod will muster to battle and I shall command them"

"Then, for all our sakes, I pray your plans work out as you wish." Baldor turned from Fram and began to tend to his horse's saddle. He raised his gaze and saw another rider approaching. "I believe Adhelm is approaching."

"Adhelm!" Fram greeted the rider cheerfully. "Your search has been successful I trust?"

"Yes, My Lord" Adhelm nodded in acknowledgement. "There is a building, well a little more than rubble actually, nearby where, it appears, a great struggle has occurred."

Fram leaned forward in anticipation "Explain"

"The building is not burnt as the others but has been broken, smote as if a tree had fallen upon it. All around the ground is darkened by the blood spilt in battle, the body of a warrior lays headless in the doorway and, there are Goblins, ten or more, surrounding him, slain by his pick."

"Goblins!" Fram exclaimed, then laughed. "Goblins! It will be a merry hunt indeed! Is the trail still fresh?"

"I do not believe so. It appears to be a few days old" Adhelm replied in a somewhat abashed manner. He, like the rest of the riders, knew of Fram's ambitions and also knew there was nothing Fram enjoyed more than a good hunt, so he was afraid, in some measure, of disappointing his commander. To his surprise Fram laughed again.

"Then it is still fresh enough to follow!" Fram said, exited. He donned his helmet once more and swung himself onto his horse before turning to address Baldor. "Summon the riders! We have Goblins to catch.!"

Fram rode off to view the scene himself leaving the two men in his wake, Baldor calmly adjusting his saddle as Adhelm stood in some shock at Fram's reaction.

Baldor patted Adhelm's shoulder. "Do not try to understand him. He's already caught up in the game."

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/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

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The clear, cold night under the silvery light of the moon that had so warmed Harry's heart as he emerged from the dark caverns of the mountains had quickly grown tiresome. The cold air was almost unbearable in the rags he currently wore, with the breeze pushing it into all the unwelcome areas that any sane man would never enjoy.

To make matters all the more wearisome the hours had dragged by in an anxious, exhausting crawl as he carried his wounded companion across the steep hilly countryside, too tired and hungry to contemplate using any significant magic and too worried about being chased by Goblins or Trolls or that Dragon to stop for rest.

When the sun had first crept over the horizon he had welcomed it, hoping to be warmed by its rays but as it climb higher into the sky it proved unable of providing the warmth he was hoping for. The mist across the landscape gave the sun a hazy quality and the cold wind could not be cancelled out by such weak light.

Eventually he could walk no more and took shelter in a gully surrounded by trees and bushes, where he hoped to find cover from any pursuers and a safe place to rest.

After laying his companion out amongst the ferns he stretched and yawned before heading back to the river. He planned to drink out of it and take some back to Brego to, at least, wash his wounds if not provide him with sustenance, but one look at the blackened water confirmed that doing so would not be wise. Instead he made do with a quick transfiguration of a nearby rock into a bowl and an augmenti to provide a small amount of water for his needs.

Returning to Brego's side, and after slating his thirst and tending to his companions wounds, he sat down with an exhausted huff.

"Ok Harry." He said at length, "time to assess your situation." He leaned back and stared up into the misty sky. "You have no idea where the bloody hell you are except its in some backwards part of the world where Goblins and people are still killing each other over Merlin knows what, and who cares why anyway?! It was stupid the first hundred times or whatever, still stupid now!"

He rolled over onto his side, "Everyone you've met here so far is either dead or dying or wounded or trying to kill you, and to top it all there's some kind of super dragon that can talk and has some powerful mind magic that you've just pissed off."

Brego coughed and spluttered, interrupting Harry's train of thought, before he settled again.

"And now you've promised yourself that your going to save some guy you only just met and know nothing about, despite not knowing the first thing about healing, all because you've got this hero complex thing going for you, and you have no idea where to take him to get help."

He sighed and rolled onto his back again.

"Yeah." He huffed. "You're screwed. And you only have yourself to thank." He shook his head. "Why can't you just go a day without something crazy happening?"

He stifled a yawn.

"And what was that thing with Dumbledore anyway?" He asked himself. "Did I just dream him up or what?" He sighed and dwelt on the matter for a moment. No explanation produced itself and he shook his head as another yawn broke its way past his lips. "Oh whatever, its no big deal right now anyway."

He stretched and shifted to find a more comfortable position. Unconsciously and unbidden his eyes closed and soon he fell asleep.

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/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

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Harry woke with a start. It was a strange way to wake up. One moment he was blissfully unaware of the world around him, the next he was wide awake and painfully aware of every little movement.

The sun was still out, so he hadn't slept the day away, but the mist had grown into thick, musty fog, almost thick enough to suffocate him, which was a macabre thought given that Brego lay beside him choking…

…"what?!"

Harry scrambled to his knees and hovered over Brego's thrashing form. "Bloody hell!" he swore. "Think Harry! You've got to do something! He's choking! Um..." He dithered for a moment, unsure of what to do, "What the hell do you do to stop someone choking?!"

Panicking he acted on instinct and reached down to pull Brego into a sitting position. Then he slapped his back several times in the hope of dislodging whatever was caught in his companion's throat.

"Come on!" He encouraged. "Cough it out!" No luck. "Damn it!" What else was there? What else could he do?

Wasn't there some kind of technique used by Muggles when people were choking? The Himleck or something? How did that go? Didn't you wrap you arms round his body, hand in the abdomen and squeeze or something like that?

Harry had moved while thinking this to take up the position and perform the manoeuvre. Suddenly Brego began making gulping sound, before he began to choke again, then he coughed and spluttered and at last spit up a considerable amount of blood, before fainting away.

"Oh god! Don't tell me he's dead" Harry muttered with some trepidation. He laid Brego on the ground once more and placed his head against his chest. He heard a low heartbeat and shallow breathing and sat back with a sigh of relief.

Shaking his head with some measure of despair Harry sat back on his heels. "This can't go on." He said. "I need to get you to a professional before it's too late. It would be a damn sight easier if I knew where the hell to go!"

In the depths of the fog he heard a sound far away, getting louder, sounding almost like thunder. Then, every now and then, he heard a voice call out of the fog, and straining his eyes he could see a few flicker of yellow light bouncing of the fog.

Perhaps it was the long and arduous few days he had suffered, or perhaps it was the panic he felt over Brego's situation and his inability to do anything to improve it, whatever the case Harry suddenly abandoned his caution and decided to call out into the fog in the hopes of meeting another human being who could help him.

"Hey!" He called. "Over here!"

But if his voice was heard there was no reaction to it for whatever, whoever it was out in the fog continued on without sparing a second glance.

"Bugger this" Harry huffed in annoyance, and raised his wand. "Deprimo!"

A vicious wind expelled from the end of Harry's wand and blew the fog away. Had he been of a more…rational frame of mind then Harry would have hesitated to used such a spell for fear that he would unintentionally wound whomever was hidden in the fog, but in this circumstance he acted without thinking.

When the spell ended and the wind died down the scene revealed was of several men in armour sprawled out on the floor with several horses stumbling unsteadily to their feet nearby, all noticeably shaken and confused.

"Hey!" Harry called out again, not allowing himself the time to feel sheepish about his mistake. "I need help!"

This time he was undoubtedly seen, for a second group of horsemen began riding to him. They circled him for a moment before lowering their lances and pointing them at him.

Harry blinked at this show of aggression. "Ok now." He said, holding his hands up in the universal sign of non-hostility. "Lets calm down a minute here. There's ten of you and only one of me, I don't think you need all those weapons."

No answer. Then the horses parted slightly and a man in a golden helmet walked into the circle. He removed his helmet and appraised Harry.

"I am Fram, son of Frumgar" he said at length, and looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry stood still, with his arms still raised for a moment. "What? Oh! Well, I'm Harry" He stumbled "son of James, I guess."

"How come you to these lands Harry son of James?" Fram asked.

"I honestly don't know." Harry answered and lowered his hands, using his right one to scratch the back of his neck. "I can't remember exactly." Then he startled "but that's not important anyway! My friend's hurt, he needs a proper healer to look at him."

"I feel it is important to know how would came here" Fram's eyes remained glued to Harry. "Your friend can wait"

"Well, that's where your wrong see." Harry shrugged and gestured to the shrubs where Brego lay. "He's got serious injuries and he almost died a moment ago. If he doesn't see a professional soon then he's not likely to last much longer."

Fram glared at Harry, as if he was trying to peel away the wizards every layer and stare into his very bones. At last he looked away and nodded to two riders. "My men will provide aide for now and we will take him to a healer as soon as possible. "He explained. "Now I must have answers."

"Alright," Harry sighed. "And thanks for dealing with my friend first. What do you want to know?"

"You claim you do not know how you came to be here. For what reason?" Fram's glare remained strong.

Harry shrugged. "Well, I don't remember much before I woke up here. That is to say that I can't recall much of the last few months before Beor found me."

"Beor?" Fram leaned forward, as if this was the most tantalizing bit of information he'd ever heard.

"I don't know if you know him." Harry continued, "Or, rather, knew him. He was this big, shaggy guy, owned a farm, somewhere near here I think, he had a wife called Freya and a daughter called Frewyn. Anyway, he found me in the river."

"What were you doing in the river?" Fram interjected, confusion upon his face.

"Drowning I guess." Came Harry's answer. "That's not really important either. What matters is that Beor fished me out and let me stay with his family until I had recovered from…whatever it was I went through before."

"Which you don't remember" added Fram sceptically.

"Which I don't remember" Harry echoed in agreement. "Anyway, I was living in Beor's home, helping him and Freya whenever I could, when these Goblins attacked. It was mad, and I was stupid, almost got myself killed, but I managed to get to Beor's house only for this giant or troll or something to come crashing through the wall. Next thing I know I'm a prisoner in some underground cavern with a whole host of other people, and Goblins standing watch."

Fram's brow creased. "The Goblins took you to their lair? Why?"

"Some kind of plot or something" Harry shrugged helplessly again "The Goblin guards didn't much care but there was this big, fat Goblin who seemed to be in charge. I don't know what he wanted really but he seemed to think he was the rightful owner of these lands."

"What!" Fram was outraged.

Harry could only shrug again "Seemed weird to me as well, but what would I know about it. Whatever the case that Goblin just wanted to torture us so we made this plan to escape and we rebelled when the Goblins were fighting themselves, but only me and Brego got out alive. Then we had to escape quick and spent the next few days walking around in endless tunnels before we came across a troll that attacked us and injured him, I was lucky to escape that as well."

"Indeed" Fram has a pensive look on his face, as if he was only barely hearing what Harry was saying.

Harry noticed Fram's change of mood but he couldn't stop himself from continuing. "So I had to carry him out of the caves and I came to this long, winding stair that went down as far as I can see. I don't know what happened next but I must have passed out and fallen down them because when I came round I was in this massive hall surrounded by treasure."

"The Dragons hoard?!" the question came in shocked tone from one of the riders, all of whom had stood down by this stage and were milling around.

"Yeah" Harry nodded. "Piles of gold and jewels and whatnot. Anyway, as I was trying to get out of there with Brego this massive Dragon attacks me and almost crushes me. I was lucky enough to find this sword in the pile he crushed me into" He gestured to the black sword now hanging from his belt. "I swung it in desperation and it caught the Dragon in the eye, giving me enough time to get out."

"Hold on" another rider said, "Do you expect us you wounded the Long Worm?"

"I don't expect you to believe anything." Harry answered with half a look towards the man. "But it happened." Harry turned back to Fram. "I don't know what happened next, the Dragon must had been angry enough to loose its senses because it collapsed all the tunnels out of the chamber after I dragged Brego outside. And I'd been walking all night until I came here to rest. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I'm aware of it Brego choking himself half to death and you lot riding by."

Silence reigned. The horsemen could not believe Harry's story while Fram still had that pensive look on his face.

"And that wind?" Fram said, his voice startling the surrounding company. "That wind that knocked my riders to the ground and scattered theirs horses. Do you know how that came to be?"

Throughout his entire explanation Harry had been careful not to make any mention of his magic and he wasn't about to slip up not. "Act of god?"

Fram regarded him again before huffing. "Whatever truth there is to your tale I know you have hidden some details from me. I will discover what they are in due course. For now you will ride with Adhelm and we will take you and your…friend to Frumgarsford. There he will receive treatment and you will be presented before our chief."

And with those words the company leapt into action. Before Harry knew it he was sharing a horse with a rider and slipping off into sleep despite being jostled by the ride.

~ End Chapter Six ~

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